Begers and Gipsies In their posturs true With Country Mirth you In this page may Ʋiew

THE Triumph of WIT, OR, Ingenuity display'd in its Perfection. Being the newest and most usefull ACADEMY, In Three Parts.

PART I. Containing Variety of excellent Poems, Pastorals, Sa­tyrs, Dialogues, Epigrams, Anagrams, Acrosticks, choice Letters with their Answers, Epitaphs, Poe­sies, Titles of Honour and Directions, Comple­mental Expressions and Addresses: also Directions relating to Love and Business, and the newest, best, and exactest Collection of Choice Songs.

PART II. Containing the whole Art and Mystery of Love in all its nicest Intreagues and curious Particulars, pro­mising wonderfull success as well in a happy Choice as in the great Affair of Courtship to either Sex: with the Description & Anatomy of perfect Beauty.

PART III. Containing the Mystery and Art of Wheedling and Canting, with the Original and Present Manage­ment thereof, and the ends to which it serves and is employed. Illustrated with Poems, Songs and various Intreagues in the Canting Language, with the Explanation, &c.

To which is added, Instructions for DANCING with Musical Notes.

Printed for Nicholas Bodington at the Golden Ball in Duck-lane, 1688.

Licens'd according to Order

THE PREFACE TO THE READER

THough sundry Essays of this nature have been made, yet there is nothing wrough [...] up to that height of Eloquence or stamped with such Perfection, but that the same Subject is Copious enough for new Undertakings, and may admit of a greater lustre: The conside­ration of which, and that I may still endeavour to please (especially) the softer Sex, has embolden­ed me to undertake this Work; to try if possibly, I may exceed what has hitherto been scatter'd abroad in the World. Great indeed have been the pains and industry of some to deliver them­selves in such a Method and Stile as has char­med the Senses of many, and induced them to be­lieve it would be altogether vain and unsuccess­full for any after them to pretend to the like. So in the days of Chaucer the Men of that Age con­cluded [Page]the succeeding Writers must be silent when his Works appeared; but even the following Age was convinced that their Fathers layed too great a stress, upon his Writings; though 'tis true they are to this day held in much esteem, yet more for their Antiquity and the good meaning of the Au­thour than any excellent Stile or accurate Fancy that adorns 'em. But least I should be censured as vain, glorious in attempting to create in others a good Opinion of what I have written, it is time I should limit my Prentensions, and tell the Rea­der that my design has all along been to give Birth to somewhat that might please, especially, the Younger sort; so that after many Considerations and Debates with my self what should be brought forth, my teeming Fancy grew pregnant with many Accademicall Conceits, which like the Ac­toms of original Chaos serrieing together, framed this Book so full of variety that I hope it will an­swer the Expectations of those that shall give themselves the leisure to peruse it; which if it do's I have my end, and remain, Reader,

Your most humble Servant, John Shirley.

J. D. To his worthy Friend J. S. upon the perusal of his new Book, Intituled, The Triumph of Wit, &c.

SIR,
I Have view'd the Book you lately wrought,
And find each Page with curious Fancy fraught;
Such as must raise the most dejected mind,
Charm the dull Soul and make the froward kind [...]
In all the Lines you to the World impart,
The kindling flames of Love of Wit and Art
Unite their Powers; —
Yet calm and innocent in all appear
As Thoughts and Dreams of new Born Infants are.
In it (as in a Garden choice in Flow'rs,
Profuse in Fruits, cool Fountains shady Bow'rs,
Soft Walks, excluding Phoelus scorching Heat,
Breathing cool Airs, yet making Storms Retreat.)
Variety of Recreation lyes
Scatter'd all o'er; cast where we will our Eyes,
The more we look the more the Work we prize.
'Tis something strange it lay so long obscure,
So long the World its absence should endure,
Whilst those that are but shaddows of the kind
With much applause could large Acceptance find.
So when the Earth rose from her watr'y Bed,
A dim expanded Light her Face oe r-spred;
But when the Sun made from its Eastern Throne,
The feeble Shadow of a Light was gone:
But wherefore strive I to make known its worth,
When in it's self it's self's so well set forth?
'Tis but perusing and the Reader 'll see
There is no need it should be prais'd by me;
But rather, I may undergo his Fate,
Who wou'd read War to Hannibal the Great?
Pardon me then, if I have done amiss,
And if I have let Friendship plead for this;
And let the Reader too forgive the Man
Where Merit has commanded what is done.
What did I say, what's done? yes that is true;
But how much more, alass, than he can do.
I like a Rivulet, run to the large Flood
That needs me not, yet so my Will is good:
He that has Kingdoms Cities may bestow,
But he that has no Cities cann't do so;
He that do's give (though Fortune ha'n't him blest)
With a good Will, the Will supplies the Rest.
Sir, Your Friend and very Humble Servant J. D.

G. E. To his worthy Friend Mr. J. S. upon the perusal of his new Book, Entituled, The Triumph of Wit, &c.

DEar Friend, I read your Book and find in it,
No common Suff, but th' Quintessence of Wit;
No trivial Things to fill an empty Page,
But such as must (if ought) will please the Age:
Nature and Art conspir'd to guide your Pen
As if they'd make well-writing live again,
By giving to each Line force, fire and Sence
To move, compell and charm with Eloquence.
Each pleas'd my Ear and rais'd my wonder too,
How in so short a time you this cou'd do;
How in a Time when other Labours prest
Your Teeming Fancy; gave your Muse no rest,
Your Brain the World with this Minerva blest:
When many puzled till Old Age at last
But Embrio Brats into the World have cast;
Yet proud of the dull indigest Load,
Each swells and thinks himself a Demi-god;
Hoping by such a Trifle, that his name
Shall e'er stand fair i'th' Records of loud Fame:
When you more Books than Weeks compose the year
By far have wrought, yet unconcern'd appear:
All unaffected stand and rather choose,
Than boast of it, the praise of all to loose;
Whilst others claim (as Virgils once) your Muse.
So still go on that you like him may rise,
Humility, when mounting highest, flies,
And Phoenix like can soonest reach the Skies.
Nor need the coyest Virgins fear to Read
These Nectar Lines that from your Pen proceed.
No obsceen Words take place to raise a Blush,
And make the Roses o'er the Lillies flush;
But softest strains of Mirth and modest Love
Enammel all this fragrant tempting Grove,
Where dwells th' Eternal Spring of charming Wit;
Such as can ne'er offend but must delight,
And raise a silent Transport in the mind,
Make young Men Constant and young Maidens kind,
That Love may his large Empire larger find.
Sir, I am your affectionate and devoted Friend and Servant, G. E.

THE Generous LOVER'S Complaint TO His Scornfull MISTRISS, OR PHAON to DORINDA.
A Heroick POEM.

HOW long, Dorinda, shall I sigh in vain,
Burn with Love's feaver, struggle with my pain?
Breathe, scorching breath, proclaiming fires within,
More fierce than those in Bellowing Aetna seen;
E'er you look down, and bid me live in peace;
E'er with one smile my labouring Soul you ease.
Ah! be more kind, or else appear less fair,
Yet bright as you destroying Angels are.
Forgive me, Heav'n! such Parallels to make;
And you, dear Saint, forgive me what I speak;
Forget what from a Mind in pain dares break.
O! shine my Sun, let kindly beams be hurl'd,
From your bright Eyes, into my little World;
O'er-cast with Clouds of Discontent and Fear,
Which in a Thousand threatning shapes appear:
As when to warn and terrifie Mankind,
In various forms the Phantoms ride on Wind;
And muster'd Armies in the thinner Air,
Shaking their Spears, for dreadfull War prepare:
Mix with those Rays a smile that may impart,
Such Beauty cannot have a stoney Heart;
Or if you drop a Tear to hear me grieve,
'Twill quench my Flames, and give me power to live;
'Twill quench the burning part, yet leave a heat,
Gentle and calm, in Love's most hid retreat.
Consider too, delays may dangerous prove,
None are impatient, like to those in Love.
Remember where Despair has fail'd to kill,
Where Grief, where Scorn could not the task fulfill.
The ready hand a tedious life has loos'd,
The Sword, the gentler Cordial, has been us'd,
And thought more noble than to live refus'd:
For Death, what is it but an easie pain.
To those that dye a thousand times in vain?
Consider this, fair Saint, and let me know
What Mercy is, and how much you can show.
O trifle not with one that is your slave,
Who lives for you, for you delays his Grave;
Dallies with Fate, to think you will be kind;
But if in vain, he hopes what ne'er he'll find:
Let him but know it, and you'll quickly see
He has a way from Pain to set him free.
Yet when the stream of Life is set afloat,
And all the Glory of the Earth's forgot.
When dazy Mists swim round my dying Eyes,
And my freed Soul's just mounting to the Skies.
The last-fetch'd Sigh shall bless Dorinda's Name,
And pray for her who is the cause I'm slain.
Madam, Your most affectionate, languishing, and almost-despairing Lover, J. S.

A Dialogue between Altemor and Almira.

Love broke through danger, Constancy has crown'd;
True Love with fetters ne'er cou'd yet be bound.
Altemor.

THis unexpected Letter, delivered me by an unknown hand, possesses me with mortal fears that my dear Almira is in danger—Ha—it says she'll meet me here this very hour—and see where she comes.—O how I revive at this blest sight!

Almira.

May this Grove for ever flourish, that has been so often kind to shelter us from the prying Eyes of too severe and too officious Parents, who strive to cross our Happiness—

Alt.

May it wear a lasting Green, and may these cool shades be still a Recess for Lovers; and these fra­grant Banks Enamell'd with the pride and glory of the Spring, yield them a soft Repose, whilst they breathe forth a thousand tender things: But how, my dear Almira, did you scape your guard to bless me with such unexpected joy?

Alm.

Not without great difficulty, you may be sure, considering how narrowly I have been watched ever since your last Letter was intercepted by my Fa­ther.

Alt.

It was unhappy it so fell out, and I have mourned that fatal over-sight of mine, which was the cause of so long a separation: but since my better self. I have you in my Arms, all sorrow vanishes much like a Morning-cloud that's spent in showers.

Alm,

But you had like never to have had me thus again, had I not escaped as I did; all our Joys, and all we can expect from Love, had been for ever bar­red.

Alt.

As how—my dear Almira—Alas, I tremble at the sound of what you say—had been for ever barr'd: Just Heaven could ne'er have suffer'd such a punishment to fall on Innocents, since Love is Hea­vens chief Attribute—But speak, for I find by the Roses being frighted from your Cheeks, that you'ave escaped a danger.

Alm.

I have so, for my Father upon the discovery of the Intreague we were carrying on, confin'd me to my Chamber, resolving out of hand to Marry me to his Neighbour P—

Alt.

Death and Ruin — Cou'd he be so barbarously inclined to joyn these Beauties, fresh and gay as new-blown Roses, and more sprightly than the kindling flame, apt for Love and Mutual Joys with Age and Impotency? Cou'd he be so cruel to [...]st the bloom­ing Spring, adorned, and smiling with her fragrant sweet, into the Icey Arms of shivering Winter, which seems in nature dead? sure 'tis impossible.

Alm.

It was intended, and my nauseous Lover daily visited me; strove with Presents, and a thousand Amo­rous stories to make me plyant.

Alt.

And did you not regard 'em? how could you resist his flattery, or be proof against his wealth?

Alm.

I answer'd him with Tears, and more and more grew sullen when he wooed; protested against his Love, and vow'd to sacrifice my life rather than be his Bride: My Father chid me for my obstinacy, and laid approaching Greatness in my view; urged and conjured me by the power of his Paternal Juris­diction over me, to yield my self obedient to his will. I answer'd him, My life was in his hand, and that he might command it when he pleas'd: But for my Love, it soared a nobler hight, and could not be circumscri­bed, as being free by a Charter ancient as the World: He stormed at this, and said, I Trifle with him, and [Page 5]should dearly suffer for my obstinacy: I thereupon fell at his feet, o'er-whelmed with tears and sighs, that wou'd have moved a Rock of Adamant, and beg­ged I might be free to make my choice: or if he would not grant it, as he had given me life, next to the workings of nature, and the invisible power that infused that breath of life, which ought to act in free­dom, he wou'd strike me dead, and kindly put an end to woes that might ensue: At this his Eyes shot fire, his Frowns me-thought looked like a Winter-cloud, frought with a thousand storms, at which I trembled, and look pale: But he, remorsless, told me. That in spite of all my denial and resistance I must prepare the next day to be a Bride; at which my spirits failed, and I sunk down into a deadly swoun, and in that plight he left me: For when I awoke as from the dead, and faintly reared my head, I found me in my Nurses Arms; who pittying my distress, and moved by my tears and intreaties, my vows and protestati­ons of sacrificing my Life to my Father's anger, but not my Love, she helped me to cordage, whereby I made my escape through the Window, though at the hazard of my life, by reason of it's hight; and have since obscured my self to give you notice by Letter to meet me in this place —

Alt.

And all this for worthless me—O my dear—dear Angel, what recompences can I make to such transcendant goodness, who have been the cause of all your sufferings?

Alm.

Your love, and constancy, and kindness in not upbraiding me hereafter with my over-fondness, is all I ask—

Alt.

Love and Constancy—why thou deservest more than the World can give; or to upbraid you with what's the noblest Virtue of your Sex, wou'd merit a punishment beyond what witty horrour cou'd [Page 6]invent—Witness, all ye Powers; and may hot Lightning strike me dead; may all the bolts of Thun­der fall upon my head the moment that I prove un­constant or unkind—

Alm.

I must believe you Sir, for now my Love and Fortunes are at your dispose; I'll leave the manage­ment of all to you; yet consider it is a business that requires speed, or else the Wind that blows so fair may turn into a storm, and shipwrack all our happi­ness e'er we arrive at the desired Port.

Alt.
The God of speed shall wing us in our flight,
Hymen the Torch shall of our Nuptials light,
And stop the Ruin you so much cou'd dread,
Whilst to a thousand Joys my Dear is led:
Joys that shall recompence you for the pain
You once endur'd, but ne'er shall feel again.
Exeunt.

The Bashfull Lover's Encouragement; or, Nothing like Tryal: In a Dialogue between Pharmedon and Phoebe

Phaebe.

PRay Sir, why do you follow me up and down like my shade, and continually cast your self in my way, like an evil Genius, haunting a guilty Conscience?

Pharmedon.

As if you knew not, Madam, the cause, or were unacquainted with my sufferings.

Phe.

I know—why sure you talk in your sleep, and are insensible of what you say—Prithee how shou'd I know what the matter's with you! I have o­ther business to mind than inquire into your affairs.

Pha.

Have not my sighs, my eager gazes, the rest­less motions of my body informed you my mind is dis­eased, and that Disease proceeds from Love?

Phe.

From Love! — A foolish idle fancy arising from Ease and Luxury—But with whom, I pri­thee, do I know the party—

Pha.

Ah, Madam, you know her above all others; nor is any body more largely acquainted with her Heart than your self—

Phe.

Very fine—I warrant you the party is not far off that you have been harping upon all this while—

Pha.

Madam, you have truly guessed—The beauteous Angel I adore is here—And thus I fall at her feet to beg she'd have compassion on a Wretch that lives but by her smiles.

Phe.

Ha, ha—Why this is very pretty—Come, come, rise, and ne'er unman your self at this rate to kneel to a Toy called Woman—Prithee, what is it you wou'd have me do for you?

Pha.

Alas, I scarce dare be so bold as to tell you what I Languish for—Yet since you give me leave, I'll summon all my Courage to my Aid.

Phe.

Prithee make haste and doe it, that I may see what a Champion you are, or I shall leave you to talk to the Wind, for my business requires me in another place.

Pha.

Thanks kind Heav'n, for this blest moment, and ten thousand Blessings fall on her that has vouch­safed to hear me speak—

Phe.

No long Prologues, I beseech you: Speak what you wou'd say, or for ever be dumb.

Pha.

Fairest of Creatures! whose Eyes out-shine the Morning-star! whose Face is lovelier than the Rosie­dawn, when Purple Clouds are edged with Gold—

Phe.

Hey days! here's a long story to no purpose! Well, if this be all, fare ye well.

Pha.

Dearest of Creatures, stay: O take not from me my Light, my Life, my Happiness! If I have of­fended, be gracious and chide me, but do not fly me.—

Phe.

Why speak then whilst you may, and trifle with your self and me no longer.

Pha.

Then know, dear Saint, I love you more than life, and long have sighed and languished, but durst not tell the cause of my dejecting sadness till you gave me leave, lest by offending I shou'd lose all hope.

Phe.

And was all this whining and pining occasion­ed by Love? All this sadness for the love me—

Pha.

It was—As for a Treasure, more valuable in my esteem than all the Riches of the Universe.

Phe.

Yet, perhaps, shou'd I become your easie prize, your mind wou'd alter, and I shou'd be neglected.

Pha.

Never, never, thou best of Earthly blessings; to you my Love shall stand, firm as Rocks, immova­ble as Mountains, and boundless as the Ocean.

Phe.

Cou'd I conceit such Constancy in Man, I shou'd value the Sex at a higher rate than yet I have set upon it.

Pha.

Witness all ye gaudy Fires, ye shining Lamps of Heav'n, that seed the Firmament with Light, and ever dance your mystick Round through the blew Canopy that covers us, witness: and strike me with your Bailfull influence if my Passion e'er deminish; or if I love not this, dear Saint, next the Deity that I adore.

Phe.

Come, come, no more of your Conjuring Pro­testations—If you love as you say, what needed all this cringing and whining? cou'd not you as well have spoke out like a Man at first?—Wou'd you have Women make the Advance?—Indeed ma­ny [Page 9]of you, puny Lovers, have been so vain to expect it, and many times lost what was most desired for want of asking for—But, in brief, if you are in Love, as you say, I hope I have given you incourage­ment sufficient to pay me a visit at another time, and express your self further, for now my great affairs urges me to take my self from you: And I bid you adieu.

Exit. Illa.
Pha.

Ten thousand Blessings wait upon you: And may some Angel with a golden Trumpet sound this to the World, to let all Mankind know the joy that over­whelms my Heart.

Methinks I now am rais'd to a degree,
Higher than Fate can reach to injure me;
No opportunity I'll loose, but hast
To that fair Land in which my Lot is cast;
Time now's too pretious for a Moments wast.

A Dialogue between Sylva and Cloris; Or, The Promise Claim'd, &c.
Being the Mystery of Love, &c.

Sylva.

MY dear Cloris! how have you spent your Time this many-a-day? Methinks mine has been tedious since you left me.

Cloris.

Indeed our parting has not been pleasant to me neither; but I have been interessed in such a hurry of affairs, that my return cou'd be no sooner.

Syl.

In what affairs was you taken up? I prithee let me have a relation of 'em.

Clo.

A thousand trivial Businesses, not worth your taking notice of.

Syl.

Nay, never seek to shelter 'em from your friend, for I find by your Blushing there's something more than ordinary in't.

Clo.

Prithee, what can you guess of that kind, un­less it be—

Syl.

Nay, out with it, I find it sticks at your Tongues end.

Clo.

Why, it was a business of Love; a trivial mat­ter, or so.

Syl.

You are Married then, and wou'd conceal it from me—Is this done like a Confident?— nay, I heard some whispering of it a week agon.

Clo.

And so wou'd you, I'll warrant you, if you had had the opportunity.

Syl.

Yes, faith, with all my heart, the sooner the better: but since it is your Lot to have the advan­tage of me. I shall make so bold with you as to claim your promise.

Clo.

What promise, I prithee?

Syl.

Sure you can't be so forgetfull as not to re­member it: Was it not agreed between us, that she that was Married first, shou'd give the other an ac­count of her Happiness, with incouragement and di­rections how she ought to proceed —

Clo.

Why, you are not in earnest, sure!

Syl.

In earnest—yes, certainly I am.

Clo.

Fy, fy; indeed you make me blush—and yet I don't well understand what you say neither.

Syl.

Come, come, blush me no blushes, nor pretend me no ignorance; I long to know, and won't be put off so.

Clo.

I prithee, Girl, ask no Questions of this kind; I'll vow I can't forbear blushing to hear you talk at this rate; sure you did not sleep well last night.

Syl.

Why, there's it; it may be I am mad, and don't know what I say: however, an honest Lass will be as good as her word.

Clo.

Her Word! in what?

Syl.

As if I had not told you, and you were igno­rant.

Clo.

Why sure you are not so foolish to think that I was any other but in jest, when I talked so childishly.

Syl.

But if it had fell to my lot, I'm not a little con­fident you'd have been rigorous with me in urging me to a performance.

Clo.

Well, fool, rather than have this pouting and reproach, I'll say something, as far as Modesty will warrant me.

Syl.

Why, who asks any thing beyond it? Not I for all the World.

Clo.

Why then, when my Sylvander came first to my Mothers house, under a pretence to buy Sheep, I perceived by his casting a Sheep's Eye at me, that I was the Ew-lamb he had the greatest mind to pur­chase.

Syl.

Cou'd his looking upon you make you fancy he was in love with you?

Clo.

No, no, there's more in't; for often as he sat by me, which he wou'd chuse upon any publick occa­sion, before he grew so bold as to desire my company in private, he wou'd fix his Eyes upon me with such eagerness, that they grew so dull and dazey with ex­cess of transport that when he found I marked it— he had not for some time power to take 'em off: He wou'd often too let fall a Sigh in the midst of his dis­course; now and then clap his hand upon mine, and draw it back suddenly, as if he fear'd to offend; nay, many times faulter in the midst of his discourse, and be so much out, that he remember'd not what he said last, and fancy himself talking to me by unawares, expressing my Name when he was discoursing with others to a different purpose; and when he was at dinner, as sometimes my Mother wou'd invite him, as [Page 12]being a neighbour, he wou'd be sure to place himself over-against me, and now and then forget, by gazing on me, what he was about, and cut his fingers instead of the meat.

Syl.

And are these the signs of a Man in love?

Clo.

Infallible signs of true love; for though their Tongue shou'd deny it by these, they wou'd lively express it.

Syl.

But did you seem to understand him so, as he might take notice of it?

Clo.

For some time I did not; but finding him rest­less and uneasie, and sometime to keep his bed, and pretend sickness, that his companions might not dis­cover his Passion, and upbraid him with his weakness; I gave him such incouragement (for indeed I was not a little taken with his comely Personage and good Parts) that after some sighs and abrupt stammerings he began to break his mind in many tender Expressi­ons; and each day growing bolder and bolder, as Lovers do, that find their Mistriss not unwilling to hear their suit, he at length plainly asked me if I cou'd love him, and wou'd accept of him as a Hus­band?

Syl.

And what cou'd you say to that?

Clo.

Why, I blushed, and made many excuses; though, Heav'n knows my heart, I was as willing as he cou'd wish.

Syl.

Then you did not deny him?

Clo.

No, nor positively comply neither, but refer­red the whole business to the discretion of my Mo­ther, whose judgment was necessary to be consulted in so weighty affair; he knew well enough his Wealth wou'd tempt her into a complyance, and therefore made the less scruple on't.

Syl.

And did he succeed?

Clo.

With the greatest ease imaginable; for it [Page 13]seems, as she has since told me, he was the Man she ever pitched upon to make me happy.

Syl.

There was no delay then in the business.

Clo.

Not any, for in three days all things were prepared for the Wedding; and to give you an ac­count in the proceeding of that Solemnity is needless, seeing you were an eye-witness of all that passed be­tween us, though you dissembl'd it.

Syl.

No, no, by your leave, but I was not, we are only in the Porch of your Joys yet: Pray let us enter a little further into the Mystery of your Love.

Clo.

As how, where, upon what ground—

Syl.

Nay, nay, never blush for the matter: Come, come; proceed, proceed.

Clo.

Proceed to what! why, I have told you already as much as I know; therefore pray be satisfied.

Syl.

And are these all the joys, all the pleasures, all the soft delights that I have flatter'd my self withall, when I enter into a Marriage Estate?

Clo.

Yes, what more can you expect than to love and be beloved?—

Syl.

But are there no tender things, no charming transports, that stupifie the Soul, and melt it into Rap­tures?—Methinks my fancy reaches at some­thing beyond what you have named.

Clo.

There are a thousand Joys indeed that wait on Love where it is truly Reciprocal, and mixes the uni­ted Souls of Lovers; in joys so soft and tender, that scarcely fancy, much more words, are capable of reaching 'em: Now I hope you are satisfied; or if you are not, I'll answer no more of this kind, but leave you to expect hereafter.

Syl.

I am satisfied in the sense of what you mean, and by this kind embrace return you thanks.

Clo.

Then it is time we part, for see the day grow old, and the falling Sun admonishes us to drive out flocks to the fresh stream. —

Exit.
Syl.
Well, we will part, and Rest must leave me too.
Till some kind Swain more freely lets me know.
What 'tis to love, and love, and ne'er give o'er;
Maidens, till so enrich'd, are ever poor.
Exit.

The Welshman lost in a Wood; or, His Dialogue, with Echo, in mistake of his Mistriss; who, in the mean time, found opportunity to Marry another, &c.

Enter Shon-a-Morgan alone.

WEll, hur was pointed to meet hur Mistriss in this Vood; hur must therefore consider what hur must tell hur, Plut hur must—Why, hur need not seek long for that—Hur will tell hur hur Name was Shon-a-Morgan, Porn in Wales, come of Pighouse and Pritish plod, was have creat Hills and Mountains, All hur none when hur can get 'um, and that hur Coun­tries was never conquer'd, put have the Victories pravely, and that hur speak true; hur have Arms and Scutcheons of her Ancestors, and give in hur crest Monsters and Dragons, was kill 'um with their Welsh Hooks very valiantly as any Shentleman in the whole Urld; nay more, was say that was place hur good-will and affections upon hur in ways of Make mony; Hu [...] will fight in hur Cause and quarrels as long as have any plod in pellies and backs; and when hur get Ma­trimonies and Wedlocks: Mark hur, awl hur Cozens [Page 15]was make Joys and Gratulations for hur good fortunes upon their Welsh Harps—Ha—was not hur Mistriss come yet? plut hur has almost lost hur self in these Voods and Wildernesses, and was very weary of these Journies, Voiages, Travels and Footbacks: hur was call, and see if hur can make hur hear hur— So-ho, So-ho—

Echo.

So-ho.

Shon-a-M.

Ha, tere was some podies yet— Hark you! here was a Shentleman of Wales—look you, desires to have Speeches and Confabulations with hur: where is hur?

Echo.

Here is hur.

S. M.

Here is hur—but hur knows not which way to come at hur—Pray hur tell hur where you be?

Ech.

Boobie.

S. M.

Pooby! was hur call hur Poobies?—'tis very sawcy Answer was tell hur that—hur will teach hur better Manners and Moralities if hur get at hur— if her get hur within the circumferences of her Welsh Plade, was swinge hur truly.

Ech.

You [...]ye.

S. M.

How is that! Lyes and Poobies too—Hark ye me—Shon-a-Morgan was give hur Mawls and Knocks for hur Lyes, and Poobies, and Indignities— And thus hur draw hur Welsh Plade and at hur— Why, here is no podies but Bushes and Briars— And since all was quiet again, was call once more— So-ho, So-ho.

Ech.

So-ho. So-ho.—

S. M.

Ha! here is hur again—Let hur see—Hur is very much mistaken now it come into hur mind, if this be not hur none Countreywoman Echo.

Ech.

Echo.

S. M.

'Tis very true; but hur much marvel, and [Page 16]creatly wonder how hur come to travel into these Countries—hur warrant hur follow Shon-a-Mor­gan for loof of hur out of Wales.

Ech.

Out of Wales!

S. M.

'Tis very true —Bless us all now, hur call to remembrance hur have had Talks, Confabula­tions, Communications and Discourses with hur in the Valleys and Mountains in her none Countrey; this was the very Glamorganshire Echo was born there, there­fore hur will take more of hur acquaintance, and ask hur some Questions: —Hark hur, Morgan, was travel hither out of love and affections to Silena?

Ech.

Nay.

S. M.

Nay—yes very true—Pray can hur tell hur where Silena be in these Voods or no?

Ech.

No—

S. M.

No; where is hur then? have hur taken all these labours and ambulations in Vanities? and must hur go back as hur came?

Ech.

As hur came—

S. M.

As hur came—But Silena was appointed to meet hur here, and hur hope hur will do it verely.—

Ech.

There you lye—

S. M.

Do's hur lye?—Very well, you have privi­ledges and leaves to give lyes, and all the urds in the Urld—But her will not leave these vods for all that, hur will be Pilgrim all tays of hur life first; but hur will find Silena out, for hur will not go without hur.

Ech.

Go without hur—

S. M.

Go without hur—how! not Silena loof hur, then there is a tifle in awl the Sex—Know very well was promise Loofs and Good-wills in time creat while ago—Pray you now, hur will talk and hold Confabu­lations with hur no longer—Yet if hur meets Silena, bid hur make haste: And so fare hur well.

Conclusion.
Thus the Bold Britain's sent into the Wood,
To wander there, and cool his boiling blood;
Whilst the sly Jilt, Silena, takes a pride
To laugh at him, his shallow Wit deride,
And to another gives his promis'd Bride.

An Amorous DIALOGƲE between Richard and Nancy.

Rich.

O My Nancy! I have longed for an oppor­tunity to break my mind to you, and now I have found it.

Nan.

Break your mind, Richard—Bless me! have a care of that; for breaking your mind is, if I be not mistaken, to be crack-brain'd, and run di­stracted.

R.

No, no, 'tis quite another thing; a thing as different as Chalk from Cheese.

N.

Nay, like enough; but I understand it so: yet, I prithee, to mend my understanding, inform me.

R.

Why, foolish Girl, it is to open my heart to thee.

N.

How, Richard, open your Heart to me!— Why, this is worse than 'tother—I hope you han't a mind to Murther your self, that I may be brought in question for it.

R.

O! incorrigable stupidity—Why I thought you cou'd have reached further to have understood my meaning—But now I find I must loose the bene­fit of the fine way of Expression, and come to plain, down right dunstable.

N.

Why that's it I'd have; I ever told told you I liked plain-dealing best.

R.

Then, to be plain with you—by this kiss— and this, and this—I love you.

N.

O. fy upon it, how you towse a body—nay, nay I did not think you wou'd have been so rude—

R.

Why, prithee, this is plain-dealing; and, a dad, if I am not mistaken, I find by your simpering you like it a great deal better than whining, pining, sneaking, creeping, cringing, and the like.

N.

Well, well, I see you will make me blush: but pray what may all this tend to?

R.

Why only to a small, inconsiderable, trifling bu­siness, viz. Matrimony.

N.

Nay, nay, no cramp words, I beseech you, Ri­chard, but keep your self to the plain, down-right way.

R.

Why then, by this kiss—and this kiss— and—

N.

Fy, fy, nay, nay, this is unsufferable—yet me­thinks I can't be angry with ye for all that.

R.

Angry! No, no; Angry quotha; you must not, shall not.

N.

Indeed but I will, unless you tell me presently, in plain English, what you mean by all this.

R.

Very good—Why, I intend to hug you, buss you, love you, wed you, bed you, and I know not what all.

N.

Hey day! here are abundance of conjuring words—though I am no Scholar, I can guess well enough at your meaning.

R.

Nay doubtless—But pray what think you of the business?

N.

Why truly not much amiss, for I love a man o [...] Parts, that has his Tongue well hung; and is well hung in the other—Ha! what was I going to say?

R.

Come, come, never blush for the matter, but speak if it is a match, and leave the rest to my manage­ment.

N.

What, wou'd you have me give my consent at the first asking?

R.

Ay marry wou'd I; what shou'd we spend preti­ous time in pulling and halling, that may be better imploy'd.

N.

Indeed you say right—Well, to be short, I am contented it shall be so—Yet, to save my Modesties credit and reputation, you must be conten­ted to think I yield against my will.

R.

Never trouble your self for that, nor doubt, but I'll do what becomes me—Strike me a bargain then, Girl, and 'tis done.

N.

But when must we be Married?

R.

Why e'en to morrow morning; the sooner the better.

N.

Well, seeing it is gone thus far, I'll leave the management of all to your discretion: and so expect­ing you'll not fail to fetch me at Ten, I'll dismiss you for this bout.

R.
Farewell, my Dear, our Wooing's short, but sweet,
And shall more pleasant prove when next we meet.
What need Attendance, cringing, whining be,
When speaking home at first can do't, you see.

The Antiquated Chamber-Maid; or, A Dialogue between Dorothy and Timothy

Enter Dorothy alone, speaking to her self.
Dor.

ALas, poor Gentlewoman! to what misery hath Age brought thee! to what a scur­vy fortune, though thou hast been the Companion of Noble-men, and at the worst of those times for Gen­tlemen; now, like a broken Serving-man, you must be [...] for favour of those that would have crawl'd like Pil­grims: but for an Apparition of the—Yo [...] that are young, and coming on, make much of fifteen and so on till twenty five; use your time with reve­rence, that your advantage may arise thereby; it will not tarry with you Exe signum, in me you may see the sign—Here was a face but Time, that, like the Scurvy, eats our Youth: shame on his Iron teeth, and draw 'em, for't has been a little bolder than welcome and now, to say truth, I am fit for no Man; Old Men i'th' house, of fifty, call me Grannum; and when they are drunk, e'en then, when Jone and my Lady are all one, not one will do me reason: My Little T [...] ­mothy too has left me; his Silver sound of Citerns quit [...] Abolish'd, his dolefull Hyms under my Chamber window digested into tedious study of other matters Well, fool, you leaped a Haddock when you left him; he's a clean Man, and a good Edifier, and twen­ty Nobles in Estate, declaro, besides Pigs and Sheep in posse. Well, to this dapper Man I have been eve [...] stubborn, which now I dearly repent, and hope [...] ­mend my manners for. O, Love! if ever thou had [...] care of forty, and wilt cast thy eyes with pity o [...] [Page 21]such a piece of Lapland-ground, hear my prayer, and fire his zeal so far forth, that my faults in this renew'd impression of my love may shew to gentle Timothy cor­rected and amended—Ha, here he comes: yet see how negligent, and with what a careless gate he passes by me; see how scornfully he marches from me in Querpo—Yet knowing I have deserved it, I'll venture to let him see I am a Penitent, Mr. Timothy.

Tim.

Fair Gentlewoman, my Name is Timothy.

Dor.

Then, gentle Timothy, hear me.

Tim.

Ungentle Dorothy forbear me.

Dor.

Why, Mr. Timothy, will you set your wit to a [...]eak Woman?

Tim.

You are weak indeed; for so the Poet sings:

The Weakness that we in a Woman find,
Affects the Body far less than the Mind.
Dor.

I confess my weakness, sweet Sir Timothy.

Tim.

Good my Ladies Chamber-Maid, or my good Ladies Chamber-Maid, this Trope is lost to you now, therefore leave your prating; you have a season of your first Mother: Go, Dalila, you make Men fools, and wear Fig-breeches.

Dor.

Well, well, hard-hearted Man, delate upon the weak infirmities of a Woman—These are fit Texts— But once there was a time —wou'd I had never seen those Eyes, those orient Eyes.

Tim.

Ay, ay, they were Pearls once with you, wit­ness —

Dor.

Good, gentle Mr. Timothy, upbraid me not, they are Pearls or Diamonds, or any thing with me still.

Tim.

Nay, nay, I do beseech you leave your cog­ging; what they were, they are; they serve me with­out Spectacles, I thank 'em.

Dor.

O! will you kill me with neglect and disre­gard? If thus you use me long, it is impossible [...] shou'd survive it.

Tim.

There's no fear of that; y're like a Copyhol [...] with nine Lives in't.

Dor.

You were wont to bear a Christian fear a­bout you for your own Worship's sake.

Tim.

I was a Christian fool then: Do you remem­ber what a dance you led me? how I grew qualm [...] in Love, and was a Dunce? was out at every turn [...] my business, and yet you was as hard to me as a lon [...] Pedigree.

Dor.

O! be now as kind and loving as then yo [...] were.

Tim.

I thank you for that: Sure I will be wise Dorothy; and as the Heathen Poet sings, I will no loose my Oyl and Labour too: you are, as I take [...] Mrs. Dorothy, for the Worshipfull.

Dor.

O! take it so, and then I am for you.

Tim.

I like well these tears, and this humbling [...] they are symptoms of Contrition—If I shou [...] fall into my Fit again, wou'd you not shake me in [...] a Quotidian, Coxcomb? wou'd you not use me scu [...] vily again, and give me a Posser with Purging Co [...] ­fits?

Dor.

O! never! I will love thee longer, better dearer; I will do any thing; I'll betray the secrets [...] the whole Houshold to your advantage; turn all yo [...] Eggs into peny Custards, and see your Geese gra [...] and multiply.

Tim.

I am mollified, as well shall testifie this fait [...] full kiss—and have a great care. Mrs Dor [...] ­thy, how you depress my spirits any more with yo [...] Taunts and Rebukes, for certainly the edge of su [...] folly cuts it self.

Dor.

O, Sir! your goodness, sweetness and gentle­ness, have altogether overcome me! and here I vow a Recantation to those malitious faults i ever did a­gainst you; never more will I despise your good Parts; never more pin Cards and Coney-tails to your Garment; never again reproach your Reve­rend Night-cap, and reproach it by the mangy name of Murrain; never abuse your Reverend Person more, and say you look like Baal's Priest in the Hangings; never again, when you say Grace, laugh at you, or put you out at Prayers; never cramp you more, nor, when you ride, get Soap and Thistles for you—No, my dear Master Timothy, those faults shall be corrected and amended, as by the te­nour of my Tears appears.

Tim.

Now can't I hold if I shou'd be hang'd; I must cry too for company—Come to thine own Beloved, and doe even what thou wilt with me, Sweet-heart— Dorothy, I am thy own for ever—Here's my hand, and when Timothy proves false, carry him to Church, and hang him in the Bell-ropes.

Exeunt.
Conclusion.
Thus do dissembling Females conquer Men;
Who being freed, fall in their snares agen:
So the Aegyptian Crocadile sheds Tears,
Forc'd from his Eyes when he his Prey ensnares.

The Fortunate LOVERS: or, The Happy Meeting: A Dialogue between Amarillis and Phaon.

Phaon.
FAir Amarillis, welcome to this Grove,
The cool Retirement, and Recess of Love
Which now more pleasing is, since grac'd by you;
A fairer Guest its shades yet never knew.
Amar.
The place is pleasant, and your kindness great
In bringing me to such a calm retreat;
Where kissing Sun-beams on the Leaves abide,
That shelter us yet: Phaon I must chide,
For trying with your Flattery to raise my Pride.
Ph.
Dear Amarillis, be that far from me,
I know not where those flatt'ring Regions be,
That by Mankind so much are visited;
But this I know, that you are fair indeed.
The Queen of Beauty triumphs in your Face;
To you the Shepherdesses all give place:
The Shepherds sigh for you with pleasing pain,
Each seeks with care your favour first to gain.
Am.
Shou'd I think so, I must my self deceive;
How can she conquer, that do's Captive live?
Ph.
Captive! to whom! what Mortal is so blest
With Charms, or Parts that can give you unrest!
What Virtue is to sush perfection grown!
All that Mankind dare claim, were it in one,
Can ne'er the peace that gaurds your Brest dethrone.
Am.
I thought so once, but now I find too plain,
And, blushing must confess, my thoughts were vain.
Ph.

Less than a Monarch can't your Heart subdu [...]

Am.
No, my meek Soul ambition's Air ne'er dre [...]
Pardon me, Phaon, when I say 'tis you.
Ph.
Oh! Heav'ns, what Rapture, what a maze I'm in;
O! Speak dear Saint, breath those blest words agin.
Let Angels take 'em at the first rebound
And to the World with golden Trumpets sound,
That unexpected, I a Heaven on Earth have found.
Am.
O! Spare the Blushes of a yielding Maid,
Who to your Arms, the God of Love betray'd:
Take, take the willing Prize—and ben't unkind
To say, when discontent disturbs your mind,
How easie Amarillis to be won you find.
Ph.
Never, my Angel,—dearest, greatest bliss;
But count this day, my day of happiness.

The Happy Choice.
A Poem.

1.
WITH that Part of the World, which like a Sea
Provok'd by Storms, to mount and ross her waves;
I find I never calmly shall agree,
Softer Retirement my attention craves:
Where noisy Business reigns, the place I'll shun,
And at sweet leisure pity those that strive
And toil their youth away to be undone
By growing old before they know they live.
2.
For at the best, the sweet of Earthly Joy
Has mixtures in it, Wormwood bears a part,
And much allays or does the force destroy
Of Bliss, that shou'd exault the trembling heart,
Which makes me smile, when selvelins fiercely drive,
And Crou'd and Buz with busie Murmerings
To snatch the Honey from the guarded Hive,
And undergo the Torment of a thousand Stings.
3.
Whilst those that free'd from Crouds in little state,
Truly enjoy themselves, and happy are;
And to themselves can true content create,
When others are themselves a Civil War.
Then grant, ye kinder Fates, e'r to my Grave
Death with his frosty Breath bids me begon,
E'r in exchange for Shades this Light I leave,
And in Eternal Gloom forget the Sun.
4.
That in some Rural Cottage I may dwell
With Sylvan Scene surrounded where the Hills
Clad in their native green do gently swell,
Where flowry Vales spread Odours, where the trills
of silver Brooks, or mazey Rivolets run
Kissing their winding Banks, whilst brouzing Flocks
With tender blateings do sweet Musick tune,
And cover all the Plains with fleecy Locks.
5.
There out of found ambitions reach I'd be,
Contemplate the Creation, and in it
The glorious wise Creating Deitie;
Of whom the Creatures are the Counterfeit.
In sacred Solitude, O Let me spend
The unfledg'd moments that are yet to move:
Desiring nothing there may me attend,
But Thoughts that wait upon coelestial Love.

The Bold Adventurer made Captive: Or, LOVE'S Conquest.
A Poem.

HOw bold and rash is fond unthinking Man!
With what Proud hast he flyes to be undon,
And meets a Ruin that wou'd come too soon.
This I, unhappy I, too late have found,
Concluding I was proof against each Wound
That Love could give; I durst behold those Eyes
To which my heart is made a Sacrifice.
With Lightning Arm'd, they shot a pointed pain,
And in my Soul soon fix'd the fatal bane;
Each Part a swift cold trembling seiz'd, the Guard
Of Life seem'd Conquer'd, and her Gates unbar'd;
As when a bright destroying Angel's breath
The Plague blows in, and with it hasty death:
Or when by some Infernal Fiend possess't,
Inly disturb'd by the Intruding guest,
The man stares wildly, foams, and knows not why;
But strait concludes he instantly must dye.
Such was th' Alt'ration that In me appear'd,
For Tyrant Love, whom least of all I fear'd,
Had gain'd the Fortress, and soon let me know
I must accept of Terms he wou'd bestow,
Since I was Pris'ner at discretion made,
His Arbitrary Pow'r must be obey'd:
I found him then less generous than Death;
For he in's rage, ne'r spares the conquer'd's breath:
But cruel Love, with barbarous Mercy saves,
The vanquish'd wretches lives to make 'em slaves;
Yet finding no way but to yield, I cry'd,
Hard Master, I'm your Slave, and must abide
Whatever your severity will do,
And beg that my hard task you'd let me know:
And yet I dread, since Pride, scorn, and disdain,
Continual watchings, Storms and tedious pain,
You those enjoyn to suffer, over whom you reign;
Some at your Gally's Oars with endless toil,
Like Sissaphus, do drudge, and han't one smile
To recompence their Pain—they sigh, but find
Those sighs serve but to rouze the sleeping wind.
Some like the Memphian Tyrant, you do doom
To wast their Lives in building of a Tomb.
Others are put with sad and lingring Art
To work i'th Quarries of a stoney Heart:
But of the various works you do assign,
It will best please your Slave to dig the Mine.

To a Proud and Jilting Mistress.
A Poem.

Madam,
I Own your Charms, I own you fair;
Yet bright as you, is a Malignant Star:
Your Eyes have flame, and scatter beams of light,
Unguarded hearts with careless wounds to smite.
Swift to destruction as th' amasing Fire
That through the Clouds do's sally and retire.
So from the hot Basilisks burning Eyes,
Through trembling Air the darted Poison flyes,
Which wing'd by Death, can distant lives surprize.
Beauteous you are, as Morn e'r from the bed
Of Sea-born Thetis, Phoebus lifts his head
To sip the Pearly dews on Flora's Glory shead.
Gay as the Clouds, his early Beams infold,
Whose fleecy Skirts seem Purple fring'd with Gol [...]
Yet cruel, as Diana, whose dire Rites
Nothing but humane Sacrifice delights:
The gazing wretch your charming Smiles insnare,
To make him sure is all your Pride and Care;
But when he's so, you feed him with Despair.
So in her Lybian Laire the Panther rests,
Drawing about her the admiring Beasts
To view her damask'd Skin hiding her head,
That their approaches may be without dread;
But in her reach advanc'd, she grasps 'em fast,
And makes that dear-bought Gaze to be their last.
Hard fate of Mankind thus to be deceiv'd;
Why is that noble thing of sense bereav'd,
To wander like a lated Traveller,
Till in a mazey Labarinth he tire,
In vainly following a misguiding Fire?
Is there no way to break the wretched chain?
Must those you snare be pin'd away in pain?
The God of Love ne'r gave such Power to you;
Then you usurp a Tyranny that's new:
If so, your Empire over hearts will fail,
Against your Charms, new Plots will still prevail:
Amongst the Brave, this one must needs take place,
That Cruelty makes black a beauteous face;
All wounds you smile, you cure by your disdain,
And 'tis by Kindness you can only reign.

The Happy Adventure.
A Poem.

WHen the bright Sun was hovering o're the brink
Of Amphitrit, Blushing, as loth to sink
Into his watry Bed, when cooler Air
The scorching heat had banish'd, when the fair
And charming Maids in spreading shades delight,
Charm'd by the Tuneful Singer of the Night,
Whose timely lays call on the Vesper Star,
And tell the World the shades approaching a'r:
Love, that had storm'd my Heart, my Mind opprest,
Which made me seek to hush my Cares in rest:
But Sleep, that to the lowly Cottages
Is still a Friend, and flyes from Palaces;
Long time deny'd to aid my willing Eyes,
And left me open to Love's Tyranies;
Against whose force, I own I struggl'd long,
But grew more weak, and found the God more stro [...]
A face I had beheld beauteous as day,
Yet Transient like a Vision 't pass'd away;
This Substance gone, the bright Idea stay'd,
And in my heart a deep Impression made:
I fancy'd still the lovely form in view,
I wish'd or fancy'd, that with Joy I flew
Into her trembling Arms, and found her kind,
Whom I alass knew no where then to find:
Toss'd like the Sea, when forc'd by winds it raves,
And in tumultuous Waters finds it's waves,
My Thoughts were bandy'd between Hope and F [...]
Like Sailors on the brink of black Despair:
I often wish'd and sigh'd as those for day,
Who in some Wilderness have lost their way,
Mantel'd with Darkness, and paved all with dread,
And by their fears, through Thorns and Briars lead
When Light had banish'd tedious Darkness, when
Through the Grey dawn Sol's Infant beams were see
Starting from bad Repose, abroad I went,
In hopes the Fields would yield me some content.
But ah—the Fever still possess'd my Mind,
The Fire burnt inward, whilst I cry'd, be kind,
Be kind, you Powers that rule the Orb of Love,
Produce the Cause or let your flames more gently mo [...]
This scarce was said, but as if Heaven gave way,
And this to Crown my life should be the Day.
Upon a Grotto near, I cast my Eyes,
Whence Light shower'd forth, that struck me with in prize
As when Aeneas saw the Golden bough,
That was his Passport through the Realms of woe:
What it shou'd mean, I paus'd a while to find,
And to advance I often was inclin'd;
But fearing to prophane the mistick Bower,
Struck with an awe it held some bright supernal Pow'r;
I trembling, made retreat, faint and amaz'd,
Blaming my self that I so long had gaz'd.
Just as I thought to leave the happy ground,
Methought my Ears were blest with a soft sound,
Which gently whisper'd, 'twas the beaut'ous She
Whose lovely Eyes had Captivated me.
This rais'd new Life, as when (benumb'd with cold,
On beds of Snow) the Snake in many a fold
Lyes motionless, as if all life was gon,
Is from a seeming death rais'd by the Sun.
Resolved and desperate grown, I now advanc'd;
Love wing'd my steps, no more I stood intranc't;
But found the murmur true it was the same,
The lovely She that kindl'd first my flame:
She started at my rude approach and blush'd,
But on my Knees, with tears her fears I hush'd;
And as my words cou'd ut'rance find, I lay'd
In sighs my Love before the Charming Maid,
When she began to doubt I mean't her Ill,
I bar'd by Breast, and bid her boldly kill
The Man she fear'd, and from those fears be free,
Surrendering my unsheath'd Sword, whilst she
Her Eyes, that sparkl'd Goodness fix'd on me.
And though to shew her strength of Mind she strove,
A sigh escap'd her Lips, they trembling move;
Down dropt the un-us'd Weapon from her hand,
Two Pearly tears stole from her Eyes, no Land
Was ever water'd with so rich a Show'r;
And now to fear, or chide, she lost the Pow'r;
Yet softly cry'd, and must I so soon yield?
Can my weak Heart no longer keep the Field?
Ravish'd with Joy at what I heard, Again,
With Sighs redoubl'd, I for love complain,
With all the tender things that I cou'd say,
I strove into her heart to find more way:
Protested that my Fever was so great,
That on my fading Life the Grave did wait,
There I must lye, unless she stay'd my Fate.
'Gainst this she urg'd the Rules of Modesty
Too short Aquaintance to ground Constancy.
Mens hot desires from real love Estrang'd,
Their fickle Fancies, and how oft they chang'd;
How soon they weary grow, when Women yield;
How Paul'd their thoughts are when they get the field
And much more urg'd, to which I strait reply'd,
Though some within their heart dare falshood hide,
Which cannot by the wise be justify'd:
The Sex must not be branded for the few
That dare do ill, since there are Thousands true;
Whose love like Heav'ns swift Fire don't come and go.
But truly loving ever will do so.
'Tis not Acquaintance that do's Love create
From tedious Converse it has not its Date,
But from the Soul, moved by the wheels of Fate.
Then I Protested by her self, And all
The Powr's Immortal did to witness call—
That if she cou'd believe, to Vows give trust,
I ever wou'd be Constant, ever Just:
Or when I fail'd to be so, might I find
A Punishment uncommon to Mankind—
That me hot Lightn'ning arm'd with Death might meet,
And burnt to Attoms trampl'd under feet.
This earnest Language did her Soul surprize,
And strait I saw a yielding in her Eyes:
She sigh'd and blush't, and for a time was mute,
And then in a soft tone, she said, your suit
Carries the Type of honour in its front,
And Generosity do's wait upon't.
What shall I say!—Excuse my blushes— Love,
If yielding, I your Reason must approve;
Take the fond Prize? whereat with eager hast
Raptur'd with Joy, my Arms I round her cast,
Imprinted on her ruby lips a kiss,
And dated from that moment all my bliss.

The Disconsolate Lover comforted at last.
A Poem.

BEneath the thickness of the gloomy shade.
A Place for Sorrows sad Retirement made;
Where brooding Night spreads her eternal Wings,
On rising shaddows that through Conduits springs,
In blackest shapes which not the Lamp of Day
With all its beams has power to chace away;
They in substantial Darkness lose their fire,
Whilst to th' Empyrean source all streams or Light retire.
I set me down to breath my bailful grief
In hopes (disburthen'd so) to find relief,
And this sad place I fill'd with Plaints and Cryes,
Pouring two Rivers from my flowing Eyes;
But soon I found my Laments were in-vain,
And only Echo answer'd me again.
Ah wretched youth, I cry'd, and to my cry,
Ah wretched youth, she sadly made reply,
Never, never, then said I, must she
Be by the Fates compell'd to pity me,
Who through excess of Love for her must dy;
No, never, never, Echo made reply.
Then have I lov'd in-vain; in vain, said I?
In vain, in vain, agen she made reply.
With that a rending sigh broke from my brest
Succeeded by a Groan I long supprest;
Which gave the Flame that in-ly burn'd new vent,
And words ensu'd that long were Pris'ners pent:
No more, said I, will I be answer'd so,
For I to shades more Dark than these will go;
Since I instead of Balm have Poison found,
That rankles, and more deadly makes the wound
Which breath'd unutterable Pains before,
Compar'd with which those great Alcides bore
When he the blood-dipt Shirt of Nessus wore,
Wou'd seem but light, yet thus long I have try'd
To live in hopes she wou'd be mollify'd;
But since no hopes appear, nought but dispair
Horribly grins a ghastly smile, and dare
Deride me shakel'd in Loves fatal snare:
Death the more welcom of the two, make hast;
With that I lay'd me down to sleep my last.
The trembling Earth shook as it's face I prest,
The sollid Rock a hollow Groan exprest:
And now to dye, I calmly did prepare,
When sounding of approaching feet I hear,
Which made me linger on the verge of life,
A Truce with Death I made, content with grief
Till I might learn who in that dismal Grove
Had kindly heard my moan, when strait my Love,
The cause of all my woes came rushing in,
By Fate directed or some Pow'r Divine,
With pointed Rays of Light so bright she shone,
That all the Hell-born fogs with speed retire,
Her Beauty's force they were compel'd to own,
Who had derided the Coelestial Fire.
Amaz'd at first, I stood by her unseen;
Amaz'd, as if I thunder-struck had been:
When she cry'd, this must be the place my Dream
Told me I must Aminta's life redeem:
Too hard has been his tryal, I relent;
And cou'd I find him yet by Grief unspent,
I wou'd be kind, and set my Pris'ner free;
But ah! I fear cold Death has don't for me:
Though in a sadder way, if so, I'll Mourn,
And drop a silent Tear upon his Urn;
Hang o're his little Grave my drooping Head,
And sigh and say, Alas for me! he's dead.
Reviv'd at this, my scatter'd Powr's collect,
And crawling towards her with low respect,
Ah! me I cry'd, can Heav'n be yet so kind,
That in the shades of Death I Life shou'd find,
A Voice so doleful made her start aside,
Supposing it my Ghost so faint I cry'd;
But finding her mistake she led me thence,
And for my tedious woes made Recompence.
Now in th' Eternal spring of Joy and Love,
All day securely uncontroul'd I rove;
All night lye panting on her yielding Brest,
Soft as the Clouds where little Angels rest,
More Fragrant than the Phoenix Spicy Nest.
Come all you Lovers come, rejoyce with me,
Forget your Pain, since such Rewards there bee:
Since mighty Love can make us all obey,
Can change our Night to Everlasting Day,
And such Large Int'rest for our Service pay.

Instructions for Female Courtship: Or, The Maidens made Capable of Wooing within the Bounds of Modesty.

A Dialogue between Cinthia and Infanta.
Cin.

MIss, you are but Young yet, and ought not to inquire into these Affairs —

Inf.

Though as yet I am but young, forsooth, I hope I shall be older; and it will not be amiss to learn when I'm young, that I may be better able to pra­ctice as occasion serves hereafter.

Cin.

Practice what, I prithee?

Inf.

Why the Art of making Love, forsooth.

Cin.

How! — making Love! — why, silly Girl, it is not the Custom for Maids to make Love; but with patience and Modesty to expect the Addresses of Young Men —

Inf.

Nay, as for the Custom, I am not very well aquainted with it; but I have heard my Elder Si­ster who was Married the last year, much exclaim against the Proud or over-nice Female that brought up that foolish Custom which has proved so Prejudi­cial to the Sex—and say, if she had not in some measure dispens'd with its severity, she might have liv'd till her Maidenhead had turned to mould [...] Cheese —

Cin.

Why Miss, you talk very merrily — But did she tell you all this —

Inf.

Avads she did, and a great deal more than I can remember; and methinks it was so pretty and pleasing, that I took delight to hear it; — Nay you told me too, you wou'd inform me how I [Page 37]shou'd spur up my Sweet-heart, when I have got one —

Cin.

I did so, pretty Missey; and to be plain with you, many a good Sweetheart is lost for want of knowing how to mannage 'em; for some are such dull Jades that they must as you say, be spurred with quick Glaunces, amorous Smiles, and a gentle squeeze of the Hand, a touch on the Foot with the Toe, and the like, or they'l tire and grow sick of a tedious wooing before they come to the end of it.

Inf.

O! Gemeny — why this is contrary to the received Custom to some purpose— But pray how must it be brought to pass without exceeding the Rules of Modesty, or saving us from the reproach of our Fondness.

Cin.

There are ways that a Virgin may make her Love known, and yet secure her self from the Injun­ction of folly and fondness.

Inf.

As how, forsooth — As how — Pray let me know how the foolish Custom of staying till we are Courted, and in a manner to be forced to accept of what we most desire may be dispens'd withal, that better dayes may ensue; for certain it is, that fre­quently Men and maids at one and the same time have had one and the same desire, yet being re­strained by fear and shame, have suffered the grea­test Torments that Love can inflict, and those are not easie, when by a right understanding the Cure had been instantly wrought, and a world of Felicity ensued; and surely it must be grievous to a Love-sick Virgin, who restrained by Custom for fear forsooth of offending Modesty, that though the Remedy may easily be had, she dares not ask for it.

Cin.

You are in the right on't; and many for want of a little Confidence, live all their lives languishing. [Page 38]and at last are forced to be at the Trouble of carrying their Maidenheads to Heaven, when they might have been Merchantable Ware upon Earth, had they been promoted in the Market. To prevent this, when the Youth addresses though in words, you must seem somewhat reserved; yet by fixing your Eyes now and then upon him taking them suddainly off, and blushing a little to set a better Grace upon the Mat­ter, let him see, if he be not so dull as not to under­stand that kind of Love-language, that there is no Reason for him to dispair, you may the better to con­firm him, as you are talking, clap your Hand upon his, and suddainly withdraw it, as if it happened by mistake; Tread softly, as you find fit opportunity, upon his Toe, and seem to start, as if something more than ordinary were under your foot, and when he takes you by the Hand to lead you, seem to stumble a little, and then grasp him fast, and suddainly reco­ver your self with a blush as if your had offended; when he looks wishfully upon you, wink a little and turn away your Head, clapping your hand over your Eyes, and suffer a gentle Sigh to escape you; and when in the Dance he chooses you above the rest, turn aside your Head and faintly excuse it [...] yet so that he may find a yielding in your Eyes; when he offers to Kiss you, turn your Head a little and give him your Cheek, fetching a sigh at the same time, as if you were somewhat unwilling; and is he put the Question to you about Marriage, tell him it is a weigh­ty Business, and you must advise with your Friends before you know what to determine.

Inf.

Why this is to the life, and I don't doubt but I shall remember it against the time I have occasion to vse it.

Cin.

This prevails insensibl, and chains a Lover more than Severity.—But see your Mother comes, we must-retire.

Memphia to Menacles: or, The forsaken Ladys Epistle to her Wanderer, &c.
A Poem.

WHat is the thing call'd Love, we so much prise,
In which each Maiden hopes a treasure lyes;
Hopes and Desires with longing eager hast
Those flatt'ring falls aluring sweets to tast:
'Tis like that Apple with a golden Rhind,
That men near the Butumnius Lake oft' find
Gaudy and pleasing to delude the Eye;
Yet in that Rhind, Cinders and Ashes lye.
How far are they deceived who hope invane
A lasting Lease of Joys from Love t' obtain
Who think it fair and Court it with such pain.
All the dear sweets they Promise or expect
After Enjoyment turns to cold neglect:
Cou'd Love a constant happiness have known,
The mighty wonder had to me been shone.
Our Passions were so favour'd by our Fate,
As if it meant 'em an Eternal date
So kind He look'd such tender words he spoke,
'Twas past belief such Vows shou'd e'r be broke:
Fix'd on my Eyes how often wou'd he say,
He cou'd with Pleasure Gaze an Age away;
When thoughts too great for words had made him mute,
In kinder Kisses he wou'd tell his Suit;
So great his Passion was, so far above
The Common Gallantries that pass for Love.
At worst I thought if he shou'd prove unkind
His ebbing Passion I shou'd truer find,
Than are the Transports of a vulgar Mind.
Nor was my Love or Fondness more than his,
In him I center'd all my Earthly bliss:
For him my Duty to my Friends forgot;
For him I lost, alas, what lost I not?
Fame all the valuable things of life,
To meet his Love by a less Name than Wife.
How happy was I then, how dearly blest
When that lov'd Man lay panting on my breast,
Sighing such things as ne'r can be exprest.
A thousand kind smiles he gave me every hour
Whilst greedily I did each look devour,
Till quite o'rcome with Charms I trembling lay,
At every look he gave melted away
Like falling Snow before the Lamp of Day.
I was so highly happy in my love,
Methoughts I pitty'd those that dwelt above.
Think then thou Charming Lovely'st falsest Man,
How you have Vow'd, how I have lov'd and than
My faithless Dear, be cruel if you can.
How I have lov'd, I cannot need, not tell;
No, every Act has shown I lov'd too well:
Since first I saw you, I ne'r had a thought,
Was not intirely yours, to you I brought
My Virgin Innocence to you my heart
Fill'd with the tend'rest Kindness did impart,
Since when ye'ave been the Star by which I steer'd,
And nothing else but you I lov'd or fear'd:
Your smiles I live by, when you frown, I must
Sink in cold shades, and there revert to dust.
Oh! can the coldness you dare shew me now
Suit with the gen'rous Passion with the Vow,
The solemn Promise you'd be ever true:
Or shou'd you pity her you now neglect,
She cannot live on Pity or Respect —
A thought so mean wou'd her whole Love anoy,
Less than your Love she scorns Sir, to enjoy.
Let me not live on dull Indiff'rency,
But give me Rage enough to make me dye:
For if from you I needs must meet my Fate,
Before your Pity, I wou'd chuse your Hate.

MENACLES to MEMPHIA: Or, A Poem In Answer to the foregoing, &c.

Madam,
WHat makes you of your Fate complain?
WhAe makes you write to me in such a strain?
If ye'r deceiv'd, it is not by my Cheat;
For all Disguises are below the Great.
What Man or Woman upon Earth can say
I ever us'd 'em well above a Day?
How is it then, that I inconstant am?
He changes not, who always is the same.
In my dear self I center every thing;
My Servants, Friends, my Mistriss, and my King;
Nay, Heaven and Earth to that one point I bring:
Well-maner'd, Honest, Generous and Stout,
(Names by dull Fools to Plague Mankind found out)
Shou'd I regard I must my self constrain:
And 'tis my Maxim to avoid all pain.
You fondly look for what none e'r cou'd find,
Deceive your self, and then call me unkind:
And by false Reasons wou'd my falshood prove,
For 'tis as natural to change as love:
You may as justly at the Sun repine,
Because alike it does not always shine.
No Glorious thing was ever at a stay,
My blazing Star but visits and away;
As fatal too it, shines as those i'th' Skies,
'Tis never seen but some kind Female dies.
The boasted favour you so precious hold,
To me's no more than changing of my Gold;
What e'r you gave, I pay'd you back in bliss,
And where's the obligation, Pray, in this?
If heretofore you found Grace in my Eyes
Be thankful for it, and let that suffice;
But Women-Beggar like, still haunt the dore,
Where they'ave receiv'd a Charity before.
O! happy Sultan, whom we Barbarous call
How much art thou refin'd above us All
Who Envies not the Joys of thy Serail
Thee like some God the Trembling crou'd adore,
Each Man's thy Slave, each Woman is thy W—
Methinks I see thee under-neath a shade
Of golden Canopy supinely lay'd;
Thy crouding Slaves all silent as the Night,
But at thy Nod all active as the Light.
Secure in sollid sloath thou there dost reign,
And feel'st the Joys of Love without the pain;
Each Female courts thee with a willing eye,
Whil'st thou with aweful Pride walk'st careless by,
Till your kind Pledge marks ou [...] the charming Da [...]
You fancy most to quench your present flame:
Then she submissive from your Arms retires,
And thankful for that Grace no more requires:
No loud Reproach, nor fond unwelcom sound
Of Womens Tongues your calmer Ears does wound
If any do a nimble mute strait ties
The true Love-knot, and stops her foolish cries;
Thou fear'st no injur'd Kinsman's threatning Blade,
Nor midnight Ambushes by Rivals laid;
Whilst here with aching hearts our Joys we tast,
Disturb'd by Swords, like Dimocles's Feast,
And scarce in the enjoyment can have rest.

Advice to a Dejected Lover.
A Poem.

HOw now brave Swain! Why art thou thus cast down?
Can Amarillis Scorn, or Angry frown?
The gay, the witty, and the bold destroy,
And cut his days off in Abortive Joy;
Make sullen Grief sit on his manly face,
And black Dispeir in his great Soul take place,
And to the Noble facculties give chace:
Brooding a thousand Monsters in a brest,
Which lately was a Stranger to unrest,
Calm as the Seas where Halcyons build their nest.
For shame rouze up, consider well the cause,
The worthless Reason, prithee Strephon pause,
And be advis'd, consider 'tis a Woman,
A thing that was for Mankind made in common,
Though fatal to the first that e'r injoy'd,
And since more fatal Millions has destroy'd;
But if you will go on more calmly move,
Be braver in your Courtship, bold in Love,
She is a Woman, and she may be won,
The best of Women was but made for Man.
By your Dijection she more Pow'r does gain,
And Tyrant like promotes her Captives pain,
Glories to think she can so proudly reign.
Make her believe at least your Soul's call'd back,
Pants after Fame, no Language else can speak;
But why shou'd he dissemble who ne'r knew
Upon what wings dissimulation flew,
When half the World she to her Party drew.
Be then your self if she your suit dispise,
The Charmer and her Charms no longer prize,
View unconcern'd the Light'ning of her Eyes;
Smile when she smiles, frown when she frowns, and be
From her weak Chains for ever after free.

A Pastoral Dialogue between Damon and Celia, or the Mutual Accusation.

Celia,

YOu have forgot then Damon your protest,

Dam.

No, I have have not Celia 'tis confest;

Cel.
But yet I saw you slide
A Garland neatly ty'd,
Into Ʋranias's hand let that suffice,
Though Love be Blind, Lovers have many Eyes
Dam.

Can you appear so strangely full of Passion,

Bel.

Have I not cause to fear dissembled Love's in fashion.

Dam.
Then why did you I pray
With Doris Sport and Play,
You kiss'd and danc't 'till Day was past it's prime,
And all the while my Heart did beat the Time.
Cel.

May I not Dance, or harmlesly be Kiss't?

Dam.

As well I may give Garlands where I list:

Cel.
But when you are so free,
Methinks you steal from me:
For every Lover will this Text approve,
There's Charity in all things, but in Love.
Dam.

That day the Storm did fall,—to be true you swno [...]

Cel.
When the Sun shin'd again,
You did Vow much more.
Dam.
Those faithful Vows I made,
Were by your self betray'd:
For I have learn'd to know it is my due,
To be no constanter in Love than you.
Cel.
Come, come no more! we both will constant prove,
Cast Jealousie aside, and take up Love.
Dam.
If so let's hast to make all sure, bed-Wed:
For wrangling Lovers, love best when in Bed.

The Appointment.
A Poem.

Phil.
THis is the Place, the Way, I thought it long,
And my slow pace did my Affections wrong;
For who is he that wou'd not wing his hast,
When by Dorinda's Eyes he shall be Grace't.
The lovely Shepherdess that can inthral
A thousand Hearts, and them her Captives call:
By right of Conquest: nay, her killing Eyes
Are such no Armour can resist their Rays.
Those Eyes that perfectly two Suns present,
When the large Skies with one must be content;
The Colour of her Lips, the budding Rose,
Or Rubies in their Richest Pride outshows.
Her Face a Beauty wears, that might Intice:
The first made Man, when Lord of Paradice.
The Lambs are fatter that by Her are fed,
And all her Ewes more frequently do breed,
Than any Shepherds yielding every year
A larger Fleece than any others bear:
As if She brought a Miracle to pass,
Fed them more with her Looks, than with the Grass.
If then She'l dain when I with others stand
To beg the favour from her Eyes and Hand:
To cast on me a gentle Glance or Smile,
And so my Fears and Cares with hope beguile;
How shall I swell with Joy, my heart will be
Taught then the Sence of True Felicity.
But soft — methinks from yonder Grove I hear,
Voices that are familiar to my Ear;
Shall I stay here, or fly to meet the sound,
It may be Her's that gave my heart the wound:
'Twas Her Command that this shou'd be my Post
But hark— the Voice is louder — whilst I boast:
My strict Obedience She perhaps is lost.
Some rude Swain imbolden'd by the Place,
May force my Angel to his Damn'd Embrace.
Ha! that known Screich must needs be hers with speed,
Thither i'le hast and if my fears succeed:
If any dare but touch her with a thought,
My Anger gives him Death for what he sought.
I'le heap such Vengeance on his Cursed Head,
That all the World shall say it's well He's dead.
[Goes out and returns.]
The sound deceiv'd my Ear, it was not she,
But Rural Lasses with their Swains more free;
Yet in their Frollicks seem'd not to agree.
So blushing Virgins that are early led,
To taste the Joyes of a kind Marriage Bed:
Feign some unwillingness, seem to retire,
From Pleasures that their Souls so much desire;
But— see my Saint approaches through the Growe
She casts a Beam bright as the Queen of Love; —
Fairest of all the Suns large Beams surround,
For this great Favour bending to the Ground:
A thousand Thanks your Shepherd does return,
And witness all you Fires that nightly burn,
And stud Cerulian Skies with Seeds of Light,
If in my Soul Lov's Flame shine not as bright:
Yet burns in Pain, and endless must endure,
Unless you— fair Physician make the Cure.
Oneone.
O! Rise my Shepherd for your Pain I'm griev'd,
And if by me your Smart can be reliev'd:
My Honour sav'd i'le yield to your Demand,
And as a Pledge of This give you my Hand:
But if beyond you ask I must be mute,
Not understanding, but reject your Suit.
Pha.
O! Let not such a Thought possess my Fair,
My Kind, my Lovely, my Inchanting Dear:
Whose awful Virtue carries such a Dread,
As shou'd a Ravisher attempt, 'twou'd strike him dead:
Believe me fair One, chast is every Thought
Of which the feavorish Passion of Mind is wrought,
As those into the World by Infants brought.
One.
Then cease vain Fears send Cares to Banish­ment
My Heart is Conquer'd, and to Lovely I'm bent;
As far as Honour will submit I do,
Pha.
Then at this Shrine I'le ever pay my Vow.
The Joy's so great, so much surprising is,
Methinks I taste of Everlasting Bliss.
Transported thus, I ever here cou'd gaze,
One.
Pray be more Calm, Danger's bred delays:
We have not reach't the Hight at which Love aims,
A Phoenix soonest dies in her own Flames:
And Lovers when to Extasie they grow,
Urge envious Fortune to their overthrow.
Pha.
Fortunes too feeble to anticipate,
Thus Bless'd We are above the Reach of Fate:
Methinks we sit on Clouds and pitty throw,
Upon the moiling World that lies below:
So happy that beyond it none I'de know.

—The Surprize—or, True Friendship.
A Poem.

Enters Philander alone, &c.
Phil.
LOng have I mourn'd, and yet have no relief
Because She knows not of my killing Grief
Long have I Lov'd, and have no Love yet shown,
For why, I dare not make my Sorrows known;
I fear Disdain more than the slaughtering King,
At Death s approach I cou'd glad Triumphs sing.
Were I but sure She'd dtop a Tear and own
She pity'd me thus by My Love undone?
But Ah— shou'd I with frowns be Thunder-struck
Shou'd the fierce Lightning of her Eyes unlock:
With not to be resisted fire my Breast,
And let my Soul out, it cou'd find no Rest.
Enters Primenio his friend who had over-heard his Passion.
Pri.
No longer hide these sorrows from your friend
But breath them in my Breast, there let them end.
Friends that by Bonds as strong as Death are ty'd,
Shou'd nothing by the Laws of Friendship hide:
Where Souls intwin'd are thoughts shou'd move mon [...] free [...]
United Hearts and Bodies one shou'd be;
One Labouring of Mind shou'd each possess,
Sorrows divided like a stream grows less:
Say is it Love — Alas! it is too plain,
Dull Eyes, short sighs, hot breath no less proclaim:
Speak, speak my Friend what Goddess must she be,
That cou'd the Mighty Conquest gain o're Thee.
Phil. Primenio,
spare me by our Friendships ties,
By all those Bonds, by all those tender Joys:
That knit and nurst our Souls in during Love,
Like that of Saints in fellowship above.
Forbear to search a wound that inward bleeds;
Which as it is, all Pain on earth exceeds.
Prim.
How can I claim in Friendship the least share,
Or think at all you for my friendship care?
If I desist to tender you relief;
Or you refuse to let me know your grief?
Phil.
In other Cases all my Breast I'd bare;
But dearest Friend, in this, the wretch'd spare:
Who wou'd be private —
Prim.

Then the Cause is Love.

Phil.
Seek not from me the secret to remove.
Endure I must, yet you 'er this had known,
My Tortures cause, had my hear been my own;
But 'tis not mine, nor moves it at my will,
A greater Pow'r it's tender Orb does fill,
And there must reign till th' wheels of Life stand still.
Prim.
What makes you tremble then, and grudge the sway?
If destin'd by your Stars, you must obey.
Phil.
There is a mighty cause—so you will say.
When you know Phoenix-like, in flames I fry,
And she who kindl'd them (for whom I dye)
Is ignorant my Fate shot from her Eye.
Prim.
O! where's that Courage then as bold as bold as Death,
Which late like a destroying Angel's breath
Scatter'd it's way with Ruin, fam'd in Wars;
Yet nobly Brave, as melting Conquerors.
Phil.
Alas, 'tis sunk—Against the pointed flame
Of Beauty, who e'r yet durst War Proclaim?
Or if he durst, he still was foil'd with Shame:
Forc't to surrender, and his Trophies yield.
Prim.
Yet 'tis too tame methinks to quit the field
Without a stroak—make one bold Test and try,
Parley at least—her mercy may run high;
It may be Peace—At last you can but die.
Phil.
Fain wou'd I venture; but a'as, how near
Is Love to Impotence? what mighty fear
Is it's Attendant? not the timerous Hare
Shakes more when by the loud-mouth'd Hounds pur­su'd,
Nor in the Lyons Paws the Hart subdu'd,
Before his Jaws are in his blood imbru'd:
Have half the fear of Lovers' who with sighs.
Ghost-like still wander where their Treasure lyes,
Look wishfully, make signs, yet cannot speak,
Though with the mighty secret swell'd, their Bosom break.
Prim.
Yet you may breath your grief fearless to me,
Into my Soul, and tell what beauteous she
The mighty Conquest made—whose Slave you be.
Friendship commands as much—nay, 'tis some ease
To be disburthen'd so—Rivers thus rowle to Seas—
And there are lost.
Phil.
This I must own,
And tell you that Dorinda rules the Throne,
Queen of my thoughts she fits—her large commands
To both the Poles of my Affection stand,
And o're my Soul her vast Dominion does expand.
Prim.

Dorinda.— What, my Sister!— Can it be [...]

Phil.
Too sadly true— Primenio, it is she.
The fair Dorinda, beautiful as Light,
Whose Eyes bid distance to the shades of Night:
And when all Stars are clouded they shine bright.
Dorinda, in whose face all Beautys meet,
Where-with a winning Pomp the Graces greet.
But O! the Beauty of her Soul is more,
What Gale of Breath can drive me to that shoar,
What Angel tell the Riches there in store.
Prim.
Philander be your self—these Raptures spare,
Dorinda must not claim them as her share.
Phil.
She must and Ever be Immortal fair:
O that she wou'd like some kind god look down,
And smile me but a Joy—
Prim.
Why, she's your own.
Grieve then no more, her flame burns bright as yours,
She the same Feavour, the same Pain endures.
Phil.
O! Flatter not your Friend, raise him not so
That he may fall alas in deeper woe,
As distant Thunder gives the greatest blow.
Prim.
Fear not—I have the secret of her Breast
Amidst a thousand Sighs and Groans exprest;
Whilst faint she cry'd, Philander, give me Rest.
Ah—pitty me, Dorinda for you dyes:
With that a Sea of Tears burst from her Eyes.
Phil.

Can this be true?

Prim.

By all that's good it is—

Phil.

Then thus—I fly to meet my boundless Bliss.

The true Lovers Happiness: Or, The Reward of Constancy.
A Dialogue between Celia and Damon.

The Argument.
The Tender Blessing of a faithful Love,
A Satisfaction do's to Lovers prove:
Gives them the happiness they did expect,
And links their hearts to what they most affect;
Which here is evident at last both find
What they desir'd and prove extreamly kind.
Cel.
INjurious Charmer of my vanquish'd heart,
Canst thou fell Love, and yet no pitty know,
Since of my self with thee I cannot part,
Invent some Gentler way to Let me go:
For what with Joy thou didst obtain,
And I with more did give;
In time will make thee false and vain,
And me unfit to Live.
Dam.
Frail Angel that wou'dst leave a heart forlorn,
With vain Pretence falshood therein might lye,
Seek not to cast wide shaddows o're your scorn,
You cannot sooner change than I can die.
To tedious Life I'll never fall,
Thrown from thy dear loved brest;
He merits not to live at all,
Who cares to live unblest.
Cel.
Such were your words when first you did I [...] vad [...]
Upon your Lips the soft temptation hung,
That has almost undon a yielding Maide,
By list'ning to your smooth deluding Tongue:
But I'll find out a way to ease,
If you refuse to cure;
To bafle Love there are more ways,
Than Death, or to indure.
Dam.
What proofs of mighty Love have I not show [...]
When has Inconstancy o're me prevail'd,
Thou cruel fair one? what have I not done?
In what my dear Camilla have I fail'd?
But still your Eyes bid me dispair,
Your Actions speak no less;
Your Tongue indeed alays my fear,
Yet keeps me from my bliss.
Cel.
Too soon to trust deluding Man, is know
A fatal oversight, and does destroy
Our budding hopes e're they are fully blown,
And gives our Infant-love a short-liv'd Joy:
For when we think in softest chains,
Our Charms have bound them fast;
The Man that most of all complains,
Can Love's weak fetters cast.
Dam.
Scorn and Contempt indeed have Pow'r [...] loo [...]
The nets of Beauty ty'd with crafty smiles:
For who wou'd a continued torment prove
For ever to be baited in the Toiles.
As softest kindness still does stay
The head-strong Lover's fate,
So Cruelty prepares the way
For Lovers to retreat.
Cel.
Pretence of Cruelty Men make to shade,
Their falshood and inconstancy when they,
Our yielding Virtues have too far betray'd,
And seek to turn their hearts another way:
Then and but then you do complain,
We scorn, we shun, we fly;
And that they serve us but in-vain,
For nought but Cruelty.
Dam.
Mistake not fairest, to whose brighter Eyes
I pay Devotion, and am made a slave:
No Star to me shines brighter in the Skyes,
No other Beauty I on Earth wou'd have.
To tedious Life I'll never fall,
Thrown from thy dear loved breast;
He merits not to live at all,
Who cares to live unblest.
Cel.
To try your Constancy it was I stay'd,
So seemingly regardless of your pain;
But since a proof sufficient you have made,
Enjoy Cammilla, and be blest again.
Dam.
Then let our flaming hearts be joyn'd
Whilst in that Sacred fire,
E'r thou prove false, or I unkind,
Together both Expire—
Exeunt.

The Contemplation of Vanity, or, The Decay of Virtue.

WHat Pleasures can the gaudy World afford?
What true delights has Teeming Nature stor'd
In her great Ware-house where she lays her treasure
Alas, 'tis all the shaddow of a Pleasure.
No true Content in all her works are found,
No solid Joyes did e'r on Earth abound:
Then labouring Man do's toil himself in-vain,
Eagerly grasping what creates his pain.
How false and feeble, nay scarce worth a name
Are Riches, Honour, Pow'r and noisy Fame?
Yet 'tis for these Men wade through Seas of Blood,
And bold in Mischief storm to be withstood,
Which when obtain'd breed but stupendious care,
And Parents are of Jealousie and Fear.
No beam of Comfort, not a Ray of Light
Shines thence to guide us through eternal Night;
But left in devious darkness, there we stray,
And find they loose us in an endless way.
Virtue's the solid Good of heav'nly birth,
Creating ev'n Felicity on Earth;
Though Men contemn her ways and put her by,
Make War against her as an Enemy,
Because their dearer Lusts she dare controul,
And set a boundar'd to the madding Soul.
Therefore in Garments poor she most appears,
And sometimes scarcely any Garment wears:
Shun'd by the Proud, and by the Worldling crost,
Urg'd to be gone, and wish'd for ever lost,
Yet is she loath to leave the wretched coast:
But in disguise does here and there intrude,
Striving to conquer black Ingratitude,
And boldly ventures between whiles to shine,
Breathing an Air that speaks her all divine:
Yet clouded oft' it like the Lightning plays,
Loosing as soon as seen it's pointed Rays—
Which scarceness makes those that are weak in W [...]
For Virtues self admire the Counterfeit.
With which false Hypocrits the World delude,
As men on Indians glass for Gems intrude;
Because they are unknowing, wild and rude.
This gives more grief to the coelestial Maid
To have her honor basely so betray'd,
And to her charge a spurious offspring lay'd.
Astrea like, it makes her doubtful stand,
To see Incroachments on her small command,
Poising the Scale as if her Mind was driven
To leave the Earth, and only keep to Heaven.

Mounsieur Galliard, or, the Humours of the French Dancing-Master.
In a Dialogue between him, Gulielmus and Julia.

Gall.

BY my fat and trot it be very mush strange that me must waite at tis rate—but me be contented to have de little patience, and de rater because me have seen the finest Sport in the Varld —Me come to de great Man to day, me make de Reverance Alamode Ill faut, and he return me de strangest Sr reverence de tird time dat ever me saw.

Gul.

Why, Mounsieur, you ought to bear with one defect [...]eeing every body has not the activity of your feet.

Gall.

By my fat 'tis very estrange a ting dat dey vil suffer a de Man to be near a de King, near a de Queen, dey vil marr-a de understanding very mush.

Gul.

Why Mounsieur, as I take it, the understan­ding lyes not in the Foot, but the Head, &c.

Gall.

Begar you shall de Excuse a me for de Cour­tier alamode dere de vit Lie in de foot; Be gar de [...] is no body can be a Eiseman dat dos not make a d [...] most Excelent Reverence dat is most certaine—dat [...] de best ting in the hole Varld.

Gul.

But can you Imagine the Worthies of the [...] World studied the Liberal Sciences of the foot, [...] puissent toe.

Gall.

Me no believe dey did, but me tink an a [...] very vel asured dat make em all dy de vnfortunate, for if dey had tink but a de Sr Reverence dey might a live a great a vile longer.

Gul.

I confess the wisdom of it; but for the Wi [...], Monsieur, can you imagine that lyes there?

Gall.

Dat be a de best vit can be possible, for your vit vat is it? your vit is to break a de Jest. Dat is like dat a my Lor, dat is like dat a de Knight, dat is like dat a de Gentlehome Ha-ha-ha, dere is now one two tree very good Jests in making a de Sr Reve­rence, dat make a me sick wid de Laugh—and bega [...] me make a de Page, a de Lackey, and all a de foo [...] in de hole Town make a de Jest very Quick, for dat [...] be very noting.

Gul.

Not to any purpose, Monsieur.

Gall.

By my fat and trot me speak to de King and to de Queen to make a de Patten, dat none do teach a de Aldermen to make a de Reverence but moy self; and me vil undertake dat wid in a Twelvemont, b [...] den dey must do noting else—dey shall m [...]ke a de [...] Reverence wid de Aldermen in de Paris, and Dance [...] a Coran, a Cerebran, a Montague, and dat vil be ve­ry fine.

Gul.

But what shall the Affairs wherewith they are intrusted, do the mean time, Monsieur?

Gall.

Is not dis a very great Affair?—why, dis be very mush Affair, be it not? nay, me vil undertake to de King and to de Queen, to make a my Lor Maire, de Sheriffs, and de Aldermen very fine Mask.

Gul.

And to write it too?

Gall.

Ah-de write, dat is noting alamode—your speech two, tree yard long, dshaw give a me de Quick a de Spirit, the Quick a de Fancy, de brave Scene, de varietie of de Antimosk, de nimble a de foot—no matter de sens begar it vol be de brave ting in de Christian Varld.

Gul.

Very well, Sir.

Gall.

Nay, me ha like a de forgot one ting—by my trot if wee have an other Patten for de Council Learned in de Law, to teach a dem de Reverence— dat vil be very great vark, yet moy tilligence and skill in dat a de matter have no dispaire to effect it in very mush time, and dat vil make a de Law florish, and England, brave England, me warrant de.

Gul.

And what will you look for in Requital for such an undertaking.

Gall.

Begar me look for very mush, 'tis mush pain, and 'tis brave ting, beside me look for de Statue de Brass in de Pallace yard, when me go out of dis Varle.

Enters to them Mrs. Julia.
Julia.

Your Servant, Monsieur—

Gall.

Begar me no like a dat Reverence, me vil chang dat.

Julia.

'Tis the French fashion you taught me, Monsieur.

Gall.

Oy 'tis de french fashoon—but de French fashoon be allways to change, and dis Reverence dis­pleas a me very mush, because you go back vid your buttock, as if som body vod take you by dat to vat me vil give no name—Me tell you trange ting, and me [Page 58]tell you no tale—'tis great matter to make a de [...]or to make a de Lady, to make a de Gentleliome, to make a de Gentlewoman, and de Autermen, to Dance, and to make a de boon Reverence; for begar dat v [...] make a de King de greatest King in de Varle.

Gul.

How Sir!—'tis Impossible that shou'd have such Power and Efficacy.

Gall.

Not at all me tell you—ven dey are so busy to Learn a de Dance dey vil never tink of de Re­bellion, and den de Reverence is Obedience to Monarchie, and begar Obedience is all de ting in de varle.

Julia.

But Monsieur, what Musick would you go­vern the People by?

Gall.

Why begar by French Fidles de best dat can be got.

Gul.

What think you of an Irish Harp, a State Or­gan, or a Passionate Voice to a Lute?

Gall.

Des be dull tings—make a de men Malencho­lique, and den dey tink on de Devil de Treason, and do any ting dat is no good—but des French Fidles do fidle all des tings out of deir heads, vid a Jerk as my foy—make a dem so fantasticall dat dey vil prove as good Subjects as any in France begar—but me can no stay longer, me have auter business vid de Lor and de Lady dat have de use of moy fot.

Julia.

Nay Mounsieur, you must not go yet by any means.

Gall.

'Tis no good you hold me—begar me no stay too Minuts to save a your Soul—dat is de Resolution of de Cavalier de France—Adue Madam, Serviture Gentlehome—

Exit Monsieur.
Julia.

Wou'd any man believe there shou'd be so much folly in this Cubit square.

Gul.

Do but think he's a French Dancing-Master, and the wonder will cease—

Exeunt.

The false Shepherd rejected: A Pastoral Dialogue between Tharsis and Celia.

Tharsis.

CElia come hither, why are you so coy?

Cel.

Because ye'r false and wound my fame de­stroy.

Thar.
You cannot think it—when did I e'r prove
False or inconstant where I profes't Love.
Cel.
When did your heart and tongue in consort joyn?
'Mong'st other Maiden spoils you'd fain place mine.
Thar.
Let no such thoughts possess fair Celia's Mind,
To her I ne'r was false, nor ne'r design'd
Any thing less than ever to be kind.
Cel.
But you to others have as much profest,
And yet drew back—
Thar.
Then you above the Rest
Have Pow'r to conquer, and make me your prize:
Why shou'd you shun the Captive of your Eyes,
When at your feet a Victor conquer'd lyes?
Cel.
But he that once can break his Vows will ne're
Be true again, what e'r he say or swere:
He that with Oaths so eas'ly can dispense,
We ought to think his words but meer pretence.
Thar.
Hard fate of Mankind—an ill name to gain;
But Celia prethee trust your amorous Swain:
Fear not but he'l be kind—nay, I can give
Reasons why I Dorinda did deceive:
And why Florella so soon lost my heart.
Cel.
The same of me you'l to the World impart;
Nay, justlyer may upbraid me, since I knew
What I must trust to; yet durst venture you.
Therefore false man—Adieu—I'l hear no more.
Thar.

I'l to another then, for I have store.

Loves Misfortune: Or, The Ʋnhappy Disappointment.
A Poem.

ONe day the amourous Lysander,
By Impatient Passion sway'd,
Surpriz'd fair Doris, that lov'd Maid,
Who cou'd defend her self no longer.
All things did with his Love conspire,
The gilded Planet of the day,
In his gay Charriot drawn by Fire,
Was just descending to the Sea,
And left no Light to guide the World,
But what from Doris Eyes was hurl'd.
In a lone Thicket made for Love,
Silent as yielding Maids consent,
She with a Charming Languishment
Permits his force, yet gently strove,
Her hands his bosom softly meet;
But not to put him back design'd,
Rather to draw him on inclin'd,
Whilst he lay trembling at her feet,
Resistance 'tis too late to shew
She wants the Pow'r to say Ah! what dey' doo.
Her bright Eyes sweet, and yet severe,
Where Love and Shame confus'dly strive,
Fresh vigor to Lysander give;
And whisp'ring softly in his Ear,
She cry'd, cease—cease—your vain desire,
Or I'll call out; what wou'd you doo!
My dearer honour even to you,
I cannot—must not give retire,
Or take that Life whose chiefest part
I gave you with the conquest of my heart.
But he as much unus'd to fear,
As he was capable of Love
The blessed moment to Improve:
Kisses her Lips, her Neck and Hair,
Each touch his new desires Alarms:
His burning trembling hand he prest
Upon her melting snowey Breast,
Whilst she lay panting in his Arms,
All her unguarded Beauties lye,
The Spoils and Trophies of the Enemy.
And now without respect or fear,
He seeks the object of his vows,
It's Love no Modesty alows:
By swift degrees advancing where
His daring hand that Altar seis'd,
Where Gods of Love do Sacrifice
That aweful Throne, that Paradice,
Where Rage is tam'd, and Anger pleas'd;
The Living fountain from whose trills
The melted Soul in balmy Love distills.
Her Ruby Lips incount'ring his,
In sweetest union were combin'd;
Where both in tr [...]nsports unconfin'd
Extend themselves upon the Moss,
Doris half dead and breathless lay,
Her Eyes appear'd like humid Light,
Such as divides the Day and Night:
Or falling Stars whose fires decay:
And now no sign of Life she shows,
But what in short breath'd Sighs, returns and goes.
He saw how she Expanded lay,
He saw her rising Bosom bare;
Her loose thinne Robes through which appear
A shape design'd for Love and Play:
Abandon'd by her Pride and Shame,
She does her softest sweets dispense,
Offring her Virgin Innocense,
A Victim to Loves potent flame;
Whilst th' o're-ravish'd Shepherd lyes
Unable to perform the Sacrifice.
Ready to tast a thousand Joys,
The too Transported hapless Swain
Found the vast Pleasure turn'd to Rain:
Pleasure which too much love destroys,
The willing Garment by he laid,
And Heaven all open to his view;
Mad to possess, himself he threw
On the defenceless lovely Maid:
But oh! what envious Fates conspire
To snatch his Pow'r, yet leave him the desire.
Natures support without whose Aid,
She can no humane being give,
It self now wants the Art to live:
Faintness it's slackn'd Nerves invade;
In-vain the Inrag'd Youth essays,
To call his fleeting Vigour back,
No motion 'twill from motion take,
Excess of Love his love betray'd:
In-vain he toils, in-vain commands
Th' in sensible fell weeping in his hands.
In this so Am'rous cruel strife,
Where Love and Fate were too severe;
The poor Lysander in dispair
Renounc'd his Reason with his Life:
Now all the brisk and active fire
That shou'd the nobler part inflame,
And left no spark for new desire
Not all her naked Charms cou'd move,
Or calm that Rage that had destroy'd his Love.
Doris returning from the trance
Which Love and soft desire had bred
Her timerous hand she gently lay'd,
Or guided by design or chance
Upon the Fabulous Priapus,
That (Potent God) as Poets sing:
But never did young Shepherdess
Gathering of Flow'rs upon the Plain
To make a Garland for her Swain,
More nimbly draw her Fingers back—
Finding beneath their verdent leaves a snake.
Then Doris her fair hand withdrew,
Finding that prop of her desires
Disarm'd of his pow'rful fires,
And cold as flow'rs bath'd in the Morning dew:
Who can the Nimphs confusion guess?
The Blood forsook the kinder place,
And strew'd with blushes all her face,
Which doth disdain and shame express:
And from Lysander's Arms she fled,
Leaving him panting on the gloomy Bed.
Like Lightning through the Grove she hies,
As Daphne from the Delphick God;
No Print upon the grassy Road,
She leaves t' instruct pursuing Eyes:
The wind that wanton'd in her hair,
And with her ruffl'd Garments play'd,
Discover'd in the flying Maid
All that e'r Nature made of fair:
So Venus when her Love was Slain,
With fear and hast flew o're the fatal Plain.
The Nimphs resentments none but I
Can well imagine or condole;
Yet none can guess Lysander's Soul.
But those who sway'd his Destiny:
His silent Grief swell'd up to Scorms,
And nothing now his fury spares:
He banns his Birth, his Fate, his Stars;
But more the Shepherdess's Charms:
Whose soft bewitching Influence
Had damn'd him to the depth of impotence.

An Acrostick on the Name of

In all (fair Maiden) you are made compleat;
Soft Charming Beauties still attend your State:
Arm'd yet with Awe! severe against the Rude;
But kind and mild to those you have subdu'd:
Empress of hearts you are, for there you sway;
Long may you Rule, and may the World obey.
Since you so gently shed your Influence,
And fill with Joy where you your Smiles dispence,
No Cruelty you use, nor from your Eyes
Dart proud Disdain, nor can you Tyranize:
Reason 'tis then your Virtues men exault,
Excuse for your dear sake your Sexes fault:
Tell to the World what is but rarely known,
Art, Wisdom, Wit, and Beauty, joyn'd in one.

An Acrostick on the Name of

Easie it is for me to say you'r Fair,
Lovely and Virtuous, far beyond compare;
Injuriovs unto none, but good to all,
Stor'd with those Bleffings that we happy call;
I this with Ease can say, but when to mind,
Ah! me I call how you by Vows confin'd
Are to a single Life, renouncing Love;
'Tis then the Tyrant grief his strength does prove:
I sigh to think such Beauty must be lost,
More valuable than the Indian Coast:
Envy so fair a Creature unimploy'd,
Shou'd leave the World when made to be injoy'd:
I magine then some way to Ease my Pain,
All Vows 'gainst Natures Laws no force retain.

An Acrostick upon the Name of

Madam, your Eyes Di'monds to me appear,
And your fair Cheeks Roses and Lillies are;
Rubies your Lips, your Teeth are Orient Pearl,
Jacynths your Breasts, your Hair the Amber curl,
All else does Allablaster whiteness show,
Save one small Spot, dear Madam, that's below.
In every part of you rich Beauty lyes,
Rare in each part you take my wond'ring Eyes,
Each part has Charms that can a heart surprize:
Nature was Prodigal when you was made,
And lavish'd all the stock of Beauty that she had.

An Acrostick upon the Name of

Art need not set you off, for in your face
Roses and Lillies strive which shou'd take place
And show that native Beauty is the best;
Beauty that's borrow'd will not stand the Test:
Each wind or Sun-shine that's Intemperate,
Leaves the Mock-females that do use the Cheat
Ascorn to such as but too plainly see't.
Bless Nature then that she has g'in you store
Of Beauty that compels us to adore:
Not borrow'd, but your own Beauty by Art
A snare too weak is long to hold a Heart.

An Acrostick upon the Name of

Dear Innocence, you little know your Pow'r,
In Sighs I spend the day in some sad Bow'r,
And now and then let fall a tear or two;
Nor can Night ease the pain I undergo:
Ah! me what must I do the cause to let you know.
Shou'd I divulge, it might fill you with fears,
Yet never please your too to tender years:
Must I then stay till you to Ripeness grow?
I wou'd if then I thought you'd favour show,
Let me consider—yes, it must be so:
I'll do't and let my Flame in secret burn,
And if at last dispis'd dye by your scorn.
Cast cast an Eye upon a Love-sick Swain
Lying all pensive on the dusty Plain,
O! pitty him that to himself severe,
Rais'd up his Eyes when Cloris you drew near;
In hopes some vulgar Shepherdess 't had been
Sent to recall me to my Flocks agen.
Detain'd from which by business long I stay'd,
Ah! me but found I was decelv'd, betray'd;
My Sight you dezl'd, to my Soul gave fire,
Infeavor'd all my Blood with strange desire:
And Death comes next unless you Life Inspire.

Single Anacrosticks, &c.

Prepare to Rise, the Day dawns from the East,
Aurora ope's her Gates and to the West
Rays Tip't with Gold, as swift as Love shafts fly,
To Light you to the Temple, all the Sky
Honour's the Day that must your Marriage see:
Each Bird sings Spousals—hast my Bride then hast,
No drousiness shou'd these dear Minutes wast:
In Joydet's wrapour thoughts that transports breed,
And everlasting Pleasures shall sucdeed.

An Acrostick.

PAtience, dear Mistriss, and the day will come,
Endure a while Ʋlysses will come home,
Northwinds conspire as yet to keep him our.
Earth, Sea, Air, Fire contend his Fleet to rout,
Let not these yet dismay thee, he will Rid
O're waring billows virtue is his guld,
Patience in Love declares a strength of mind
Exactly peiz'd, and neither way mclin'd.

An Acrostick.

Shall I still languish?—must I pine away,
And me'r be bles't, ne'r see the happy day;
Resolve, dear Saint, to let our Loves once joyn,
And give us Transports near to those divine,
Beal with your heart the wounds you make in mine.

An Acrostick.

Am I deceiv'd fair Mistriss, can't you love:
Nothing? can nothing your affections move?
Nature consider made you not for this,
A Tryal of fresh Charms create fresh Bliss.

An Acrostick.

Remember fair one, you was made for Man,
And are Imperfect till with him you joyn:
Consider that but half your self you are,
Half till with Man the other half you share:
Alure him then with your bewitching eyes,
Each glance of yours can Marble hearts surprlze;
Look out whilst Beauty lasts, love and be wife.

An Acrostick.

Let it suffice your Virtues gain Applause,
Envy no more prevails.—The mighty cause
Of all your Suff'rings Virtue still will shine;
No Star's more bright, nothing is more divine:
O're casting Mists it's lustre long can't shroud,
Rays will dart forth, and pierce the thickest cloud,
An Ark it is when winds and waves grow loud.

An Acrostick.

Each word you speak does seem a Sentence grave,
Learning and Beauty your Protection crave;
In either justly you perfection boast,
Season'd in youth, your years have nothing lost:
Arts too of every kind upon you wait,
Be kind as ye'r accomplish'd good and great,
Ease a sad Lovers pain, and give him peace;
Those wounds that with a frown you did increase,
Heal with your Smiles, and make my torments beast

And thus may you sit an Acrostick to every Name it being no other than making a Verse upon some quaint subject Matter or Fancy, answering to every Letter of the Name.

Anagrams are quaint Devices taken from the Letter of any Name that will bear them,

As, Jacobus Stuart.
Justa Scrutabor.

James Stuart.
A Just Master.

And upon this the famous Sylvester, in the beginning of Dubartus's Divine Week has Commented, &c. viz. [Page 69]

For a Just Master have I labour'd long,
To a Just Master have I vow'd my best;
By a Just Master shall I take no wrong,
With a Just Master wou'd my life be blest.
In a Just Master are all Virtues met,
From a Just Master flows abundant Grace;
But a Just Master is so hard to get,
That a Just Master seems of Phoenix Race.
Yet a Just Master have I found in fine,
Of a Just Master, if you question this,
Whom a Just Master I so Just define,
My Liege James Stuart a Just Masters is:
And a Just Master cou'd my work deserve,
Such a Just Master wou'd I justly serve.

This way in times of old was in great Request, but now for the most part rejected, though under­stood but by a sew; as it appeared by a Country Gentleman, who coming up to London, and falling into a Club of the Town-Wits, and Supper being al­most ended, one of them who had been tampering upon his-Mistress's Name, in this way to shew his In­genuity, urged the rest that they might close with a Dish of Anagrams, which the Gentleman not well un­derstanding the Method of it, took it to be a Plate of Tarts that came last to the Table; and returning into the Country, he in a rage turned away his Cook, because in all the time he had been with him he had not furnished his Table with a Dish of Anagrams, or at least ways forgot to call 'em by their right Name.

CURIOUS LETTERS and ANSWERS, WRITTEN In the most Elegant Stile on sundry Occasions for Pleasure and Imitation.

A Letter from a Mother to her Daughter To Per swade her from rash Marriage.

Daughter,

AS I have a peculiar Int'rest in you, so it is my chiefest care to study that you may be we [...] Provided for in Marriage; and since I hear you en­tertain many that solicit you that way, I thought [...] became me though you are at present from unde [...] my wing or immediate Jurisdiction to give you [...] caution how you proceed in that great Affair, a busi­ness upon which depends your present and fut [...] Felicity on this side Heaven, and though frequently too hastily undertaken; yet if it fortune unhappy nothing remains but an uneasie Life, and a fruitless repentance; nor is there a Cordial but Death, which proves at best but sower and unsavoury therefore le [...] a Mothers advice prevail with you not to give credi [...] lightly to the Flatteries and Dissimulations of Men whose Vows and Protestations for the most part a [...] valued no more than common Air when once the [...] [Page 71]have obtained their ends but he wary and cautious in your Proceedings; that so you may not only be ac­counted wise by those that you converse withall, but likewise that it may Redound to your own advantage considering that in your happiness, mine by sympa­thy consists, and that as a Mother whose affections cannot dissemble, I shall on all occasions be ready to bear a part with you according to my strength and ability, as well in Sufferings or Adversity, as in yonr Advancement and Prosperity: Therefore as you ten­der an indulgent Mother, and wou'd avoid hasten­ing her steps to the Grave be cauteous in this affair; and so with my Prayers to Heaven for your welfare, I remain, Your Tender and Loving Mother,

A. B.

The Daughters Answer to the foregoing Letter.

Dear Mother,

I Have received your Letter, and in all Duty and Obedience return you my humble and hearty Thanks, in a due acknowledgment of your Care and render Regard towards me, in being solicitous for my welfare in the particular of Marriage, nor shall my Caution therein be wanting to answer your Expe­ctation; for I very well know the decitfulness of many Pretending Lovers, and have been both warned and armed by the Disasters and unfortunate Exam­ples of too many of our Sex, who have rashly ven­tured upon a state they are altogether unaquainted with, and by that means failing of the competency they expected, & seeing too late their folly, they have become burthensom to then selves and their Rela­tions; wherefore when I make a choice, and give a­way my heart, I shall move in that Affair with such caution, that I hope neither you nor my self shall [Page 72]have the least cause to repent or repine; for although I have many Pretenders; yet none of them shall ga [...] Possession till I am well assertained I am upon su [...] Ground. Wherefore intreating you to surpress y [...] Fears of this kind, and ever praying for your hea [...] and welfare, I assume to subscribe my self as [...] Duty bound,

Your most Dutiful and Obedient Daughter, R B.

The young Lover to his Mistriss, a Letter, &c.

Dear Mistriss,

DId you know how much I am intangled in Lo [...] and what Pow'r you have over me, I doubt [...] but you wou'd look upon me with kinder Eye Great indeed has been my diligence to signifie it [...] you, but it seems you were insensible of the Sig [...] and Love-Tokens I made you, which occasion'd [...] sending this Letter, to tell you more plainly that am desperately smitten ever since I first beheld you fair Eyes, and have often been about to reveal [...] self by word of Mouth, but was often dashed by th [...] awe of yonr presence; nay, though I have enforce my self to do it, yet such is the fate of Lovers, [...] words could find no passage, but stuck as it were [...] the way: wherefore intreating you to look m [...] kindly on me when I come next to your Fathe [...] House, that I may have thereby some Incourageme [...] to speak for my self, and tell you more of my Min [...] I remain,

Dear Mistriss, Your Affectionate Servant, T. C.

The Answer.

Sir,

YOu amaze me not a little to send me a Letter, in which you give me to understand you are in Love with me; for how can I otherwise than won­der considering your years, how you shou'd pretend to a Matter of so great a moment; but attributing it to your youth and unexperience, I shall make the best construction of your meaning, yet withal conjure you that you trouble not your self to write, nor me to read any more Letters of this kind; for if you do, instead of showing you more Countenance, I may chance to be angry, and reprove you of childishness, if not of folly: wherefore if you expect me to continue any Love towards you as being my Kinsman, let this be a warning to prevent your flattering your self any further: and so I remain,

Your loving Kinswoman, A. G.

A Lady to her Inconstant Lover.

Sir,

HAd I thought you had been so much addicted to the Flatteries of your Sex, and that the falshood and Inconstancy too common amongst men, could have found a Lodgment in your Breast, common Pru­dence would have forbid me to have entertained a Snake in my bosom, but your Vows and Protestations had too great an Influence over my Credulity, and made me easie to be undone by surrendring the strong hold of my Affections to a treacherous Pre­tender to Fidelity; but since it is past recall, and I for my good Nature am betray'd and left destitute of what I once prized so highly, what now remains but [Page 74]that I lay the blame upon my self, and repine at my weakness, taking care for the future, to stand upon m [...] guard and be vigilent to keep out any crafty surp [...] ­zer as much as in me lies surpressing my Affection towards you, thereby to lessen the Conquest that [...] given you Pow'r to triumph over me, and be again my self: so for ever bidding you adue, I reman [...] false man,

Your irreconcileable and much Injured Mistriss. A. P [...]

A Passionate Letter from a Gentleman to [...] Mistriss whom he had Offended.

Madam,

IF Tears and Sighs and the unfeigned Sorrows of [...] perplexed and uneasie Mind can make any I [...] pression upon your good Nature to Pardon my [...] fending you; If the low Submission and Prostration of a Slave cast at your feet can move pity in yo [...] tender Breast, look upon me with Eyes of Compas­sion, & suffer a Compassionate relenting to possess yo [...] Mind; let the former Kindness you was pleased [...] express towards me plead on my behalf, that yo [...] would restore me from Banishment, That you would once more admit me to your presence, that there might obtain the favour of excusing, or at least of con­fessing and begging Pardon for the Crime of which [...] stand charged before you, and as an expiation thew of, undergo any Punishment you shall doom mea [...] except that of being forbidden to approach the D [...] ­ling of my Repose, the Center of all my Happine [...] and all my earthly Felicity. And so in hopes yo [...] will look kindly upon this my low Submission, I [...] main, Dear Madam,

Your Penitent and afflicted Servant, T. D.

The Answer.

Sir,

I Have received your Letter, wherein you pretend to be very sorry for your offence, the which though I resent very heinously, I must at the same time con­fess I should have some inclination to Pardon if I could prevail with my self to believe you are truely sorrowful for offending, and wou'd make it a caution for the future how you suffer your tongue to run at [...]andom, in discovering or rather betraying the secret Affairs of your Mistriss; however I will so far flatter my self into a belief that you are sensible of your unadvised rashness, that you will carry your self more prudently hereafter; upon which condition I admit you to plead for your self in Person, at what time I [...]ewise let you know, I expect rather an acknow­ledgment, and a detestation of what has passed [...]an any pretended Excuse or Justification of your Innocence, and so I take my leave, Subscribing my self,

Your much offended Friend, N. G.

A Letter from a Father to his Son.

Son,

BY reason of your long Absence from me, I have undertaken to write to you, to tax you with a neglect of your Duty, in not aquainting me by Let­ter or otherwise with your Affairs, or giving me to understand whether you are in Health and Prospe­rity, or not; however, if I speedily hear from you I may accept of your Excuse, and in the mean time be sure so to behave your self in all your Affairs and Undertakings, that it may redound to mine and your [Page 76]own Credit, that I may not think the Learning an­other Advantages I have bestowed upon you, h [...] been cast into barren Ground, or bestow'd upon yo [...] in-vain; and above all be careful that you conve [...] or keep Company with none unless your unavoid [...] ­ble occasions require it; but such as are honest a [...] virtuous, for Evil Company is the Ruin of You [...] and so in hopes speedily to see you, I remain,

Your Loving Father, T. [...]

The Answer.

Dear Father,

AFter the humble Acknowledgment of my D [...] and Obedience, I must with blushes own [...] the hurry of Business wherein I have interessed [...] ­self, has made me remiss in not keeping the Pro [...] I made at my Departure to write frequently, the [...] by to certisie you how Affairs go in these Parts. [...] since you are pleased to Pardon what is past upon th [...] Security of a strict observance, I shall not I hope [...] wanting to merit in some measure so much goodne [...] lenity and tender affection as you have always [...] press'd towards me, and as for the caution you [...] me in relation to my Company, I have all along [...] served it, my own discretion directing and inch [...] me so to do; but since you remind me of it, [...] redouble that Caution, and am perswaded you [...] hear no ill Character of me from the mouth of [...] but if any by false Aspersions should attempt to [...] your Ears, intra-ducing me I hope you will not [...] hastily nor without good grounds give credit to [...] Moths of mens Reputation, and so in Expectation see you, and lay my self in Duty at your fect [...] [Page 77]soon as my great Affairs will permit; most honoured Father, I remain,

Your most Dutiful and most Obliged Son, S. R.

Letter to a Maid to perswade her to Marry.

Dear Isabel,

SInce I have entered into a married Estate, I have found so many unexpected Pleasures, and so much comfort in a Kind and Loving Husband, that for all the little Niceties and Fears that struggle to hinder virgins for that which naturally they so much covet and desire, nor whatever else can be reasonably na­med, I would not be otherwise than I am; I must confess at first the thoughts of giving my self up to the will of a Husband did not a little startle me considering I was altogether unskilled, in such an undertaking, nor had I been less possessed in my tender years, with the Descriptions of the many ha­ [...]ards and dangers that attended a Marriage Estate, and what rough and boisterous Creatures men are when they get innocent Virgins into their Power; but since I find all contrary: I conclude such frightful Representations were only scattered in my way to [...]event any early Progress I might be inclined to make in Love, you may indeed think it strange that [...] write thus to you; but since I am possessed of so [...]reat a share of felicity, I cannot yet think it so per­ [...]ct [...]ct as I would do, if the like were fallen to your [...]ot; for as we have been all along Sympathizers in [...]ch others Joy and Grief, and dear Companions [...]ce our tender Infancy, what remains where true [...]ffection dwells, but that I should wish you happy [...] the same Estate, wherein I find my self so, [Page 78]nor need you, I am confident, adorned with so muc [...] Beauty and Virtue, want a thousand Hearts, out [...] which number of your Adorers, out of which casti [...] by the fabulous fear that hinders the Consummatio [...] of Love, you might choose one to shower on you [...] the soft Endearments, all the kind Complacent [...] and tender things that can possibly render a Woman happier that her self can reasonably conceive [...] which is the entire wish, and earnest desire of he [...] who is,

Your unseigned Friend and Servant, A. [...]

A Letter to a Widow.

Dear Widow,

I Must at once express my self both sorry and gla [...] that now you are at Liberty to make a sece [...] Choice; sorry that you have lost a good Husba [...] and glad that it is in my power to recommend a [...] ther to your Arms who will no less tender and [...] gard you, one that will think nothing too dear [...] please & oblige you, you may indeed object that go [...] men are hard to be found, to which I subjoyn, a [...] therefore have been very curious and cautious to [...] you out one amongst those few that are so cautio [...] indeed is to be used in so great an Affair, but [...] much frequently marrs a good Enterprize. Y [...] know, Widow, what it is to be married; a [...] therefore ought not to stand on little Niceties, wh [...] the more weighty part is substantial; nor can I im [...] gine that you have so hard a thought of me as to [...] lieve I would be so treacherous as to recommend [...] to any thing to your Disadvantage. However I [...] undertaken that you shall admit of a Visit from [...] [Page 79]Party who is so highly in my Esteem, and I hope will shortly be so in yours, and in Expectation you will not let me prove Barren in my Promise, in which you may conclude my Credit must of necessi­ity suffer. I Subscribe my self,

Your Cordial and unfeigned Friend, P. C.

The Answer.

Sir,

I Have Perused the Letter you sent me not without Blushes, considering the Contents were some­what surprizing; I have indeed all along ranked you amongst the number of my Friends, and you might justly have taxed me with Ingratitude, had I done less; but that you should concern your self in my Affairs of this kind, I never expected. I have in­deed, as you say, lost a good Husband, whose Re­membrance is too fresh in my Mind to admit any thoughts of a second; however I must return you my thanks for your good will and meaning towards me; and that I may be the more tender of your Credit, I will upon your account, by reason your Promise is past, admit of though against my Inclination, a Visit; and so I conclude, and am, Sir,

Your unfeigned Friend, A. D.

A Letter from a Wife to her Husband in the Country.

Dear Husband,

YOur tedious Absence does not a little afflict me, nor did I think the Love you so much profess towards me could have so long delayed me since [...] [Page 80]well know that I take no joy in my self being thus divided from you who are my chiefest Comfort on Earth; what shall I say then, but that you are un­kind; yet methinks I blush to lay such an Injury to your charge, and find at the same time something whisper me that you cannot be guilty, (considering the Obligations I have laid upon you) of such a Crime in Love; but to put me altogether out of doubt, and that I may have no cause to believe you purposely delay, Dear Love, gratisie so far the Expectations and earnest wishes of your Kind and most Affectionate Wife as to let her speedily be blessed with having you in her Arms, there tenderly to chide you for taking your self from her, and at the same time be­reaving her of the much desired possession of all her Temporal felicity; for well you know, considering how dearly I tender your Company, that your Ab­sence must be tedious to her that lives but to share a life with you; and so in hopes whatever business may happen or you may pretend, you will gratisie me in this small request, thought to me of the greatest mo­ment Imaginable, I am Dear Husband,

Your dutiful Loving and Obedient Wife, S. B.

The Answer.

Kind Wise,

I Have received your Letter, and am but too sensible that my Absence has been tedious to you; yet I must excuse it (though intire Love and Matrimonial tenderness and affection is frequently attended with Impatience to be delayed, and will not admit with a firm Crudulity of any Excuse) by my being forced to attend upon unexpected Business, which has in spite of all the earnest Desires, I have had of return­ing, and the Promises I made to my kind and mo [...] [Page 81]obliging Wife delayed me; wherefore I must ear­nestly intreat you that you would be more tender that to impute it to any disregard or neglect I have of your Person, and though to remove all scruples of that kind; nay, be it to my Detriment or Loss in Affairs, I will hast to give you the Satisfaction you seem so earnestly to require, by being speedily with you, and so put it into your Power to chide me at leisure, and till that happy time which I as earnestly desire as any thing that can be thought of or expres­sed: I am Dear Wife,

Your ever Loving and most Affectionate Husband, G. B.

The Daughters Letter complaining to her Mo­ther for wand of a Husband.

Dear Mother,

YOu told me when I was sent abroad, it was in order to gain such Breeding and Carriage as might qualifie me to enter upon a Married Estate, which made me the willinger to be absent from you so tedious a time; and though my Diligence has been great to improve my self to the utmost of my Abili­ties, and am, as I hope, of sufficient years and dis­cretion to alter my Condition; yet I do not any ways perceive your Endeavours tend to the furtherance of that Affair; but that you seek to confine me to a te­dious Virginity, which I am the rather induced to believe is the sum of your Intentions; for as much as since my Mistriss, or rather Goaler received your last Letter, she has set more Spies upon my ways and a­ctions, and has straitened me that Liberty which be­fore was but little better than Bondage; therefore let me intreat you by all the Duty and Obedience I [Page 82]have hitherto been conformable in to your Commands, that you unriddle me this my stery: my years cannot be a sufficient objection, as being now altogether Six­teen, and having seen many a younger Bride in the fruition of those Joys that are Strangers to me, or if you have designed one to be my Husband, who it not yet at years of Discretion, and consequently not capable of meeting me with an equal flame, at least let me know it, that I may in complyance to your will, stay longer; yet that it may be in hopes, and that my Comfort may be I shall not undergo the Scandal of being reputed an overgrown Virgin, espe­cially in an Age where the forwardness of our Sex makes it a wonder to pass the Teens. I cou'd inlarge upon this Subject, but hindered by Blushes, I desist and press no further at this time, than that I may have your Answer, and so remain,

Dear Mother, Your most Obedient and Dutiful Daughter, A. C.

The Answer.

Daughter,

THe suprizing Letter I received, I could not, had I not been very well acquainted with the Hand, have conjectured to have come from you, I indeed re­move you at the distance you now are because I percei­ved a more than ordinary forwardness in you to give ear to the alurements and smooth discourses of young men which becomes not the Modesty of our Sex; [...] so doing, we give our selves up to the Temp­tation which approaches too fast, and run upon those, snares we ought to shun, nor do I now less wonder at your Impatience, and more when you plead your Age, although at the same time you lie in the days wherein to the scandal of their Parents, in whose [Page 83]Power it frequently is to prevent it, Maids leap out of their Cradle into their Marriage Bed; which in­discretion is the cause of so many Misfortunes that befall them even in their Nonage, and one of the main Reasons we have such a Pigmy Generation, if placed in competition with former times, when it was held a Reproach to Marry under 20 years; nor must I have you repine if I think it convenient you continue as you are till that time; But if you will be a Rebel to your Obedience, and bid defiance to an­cient laudable Customs, let the Misfortunes that hap­pen be upon your own head: however I shall not be wanting to take such measures as may possibly pre­vent it. And so commanding you to trouble me with no more Stories of this Kind, I am whilst you conti­nue in a state of Obedience and Duty,

Your careful and Affectionate Mother, M. C.

A Letter to a young Lady upon the second Sight.

Dear Madam,

AFter I have with much earnestness begged your Pardon for presuming to intrude this Letter into your fair hands, I must grow bold under the umbrage of ther like Pardon, to let you know that your Idea has so largely possessed my heart, that I have ever since I first beheld you, been captivated by your bright Eyes, & made it my business to find out the Apartment of my Conqueress, and am so fortunate as now to know it; but when all ways were tryed to gain access, and none found but such as perhaps might be resented as Rudeness in a Stranger, I enforced my self to commit these Lines to your favorable Constru­ction, wherein I yet presume to tell you that I Love, and that you are the fair Creature that Imploys my, [Page 84]Thoughts, and in hopes of whose Favour I only flat­ter my self with happiness: O frown not then, nor let a Cloud of Anger overcast those beams of Light that have darted into my Soul the charming luster that sparkles in themselves, but look favourably upon this poor Address, and bless me with a Line or two, that I may know you have some Compassion on me, and that I may continue on this side the Land of Di­spair; spair; for which condescension I shall make it the business of my life to serve you in all the Possibilities your Commands shall impose on me; and so in hope you will be gracious, I presume to subscribe my self,

Madam, Your most Passionate and Obedient Servant, A. C.

The Answer.

Sir,

I Must own I have received a Letter, but the Person that sent it I know not, yet at the Importunity of the Bearer, and the request of the Writer, I have sent back these Lines to let you or whoever it may concern know, That those who make their Addresses to me in the way of Courtship are so Prudent to be well known to me before they trouble me with Let­ters; wherefore I think it no ways convenient to capi­tulate with you, till I am better informed of your worth, you may indeed be a Person very deserving; but since I am at present in the dark as to any knowledge or certainty thereof, you must Pardon me if I suspend my opinion or forbear to declare my self, till I am more sensible of it. And so Sir, leaving you to gather from this what shall seem most suitable, I conclude to Subscribe my self in civility,

Your Friend and, A. B.

Julia to Hemanus, a Letter.

My Dear Hemanus,

YOur tedious Absence has not a little afflicted my tender heart nor cou'd I think when we parted that Business of the greatest moment could have made so long a Separation; but seeing it so falls out, you cannot reasonably blame me, that I am possessed with mortal fears lest some ill chance has befallen you, I might indeed could I find any place to doubt your Constancy, tax you with Ingratitude and unkindness. But not daring to harbour such a thought, I am con­strained to let you know that I desire your Company beyond any thing I can express on this side Imortal felicity, and therefore make it my carnest request that you would delay no longer to hasten hither, where with open Arms and all the Indearments of a tender and affectionate Lover, your Julia waits to re­ceive you, and must, till you bless her with your Pre­sence, sit under the shade of Melancholy, pressed with anxious Cares, and remain,

Your constant loving and yet disconsolate Wife, Julia.

The Answer.

My dearest Julia.

I Have received your Letter, and am not a little grieved that I have taken my self from you so long a time, but the Seas and Winds as well as important Business have unhappily conspired to keep us sepa­rate, if we can rightly term it a Separation where the hearts are one, in the strictest Union and bonds of Love: However I shall take that care to break through all Obstructions that may offer to creat de­lay, [Page 86]and with the speed that wings true Love hasten to your Arms, and strive to render you a double Joy in Recompence of my long Absence; till when, Dear Love be patient, and let no sorrow afflict a heart in which I have so great a share; but let the conside­ration of my being on my was to renew your happi­ness banish sad Thoughts; and so commending you to the Protection of Heaven, I subscribe my self,

Your constant and most Affectionate, Hemanus.

A Letter to Commend a young Gentleman to his Mistriss.

Dear Madam,

BEing so happy to be informed that Mr. P. is late­ly become a Servant of yours, and as I under­stand, altogether in earnest, having first begged your Pardon for my Presumptuous Intrusion, I thought [...] convenient to Inform you, that if you are disposed to alter your Condition, I cannot think any Person fitter for your Choice, considering the good Chara­cter he has in the World of being an honest frugal prudent and ingenious Gentleman, which to my Knowledge proceeds not from Flattery, but is alto­gether grounded upon his Merit, as for his Person, I shall not commend it, for as to that you are the com­petenrest Judge; and indeed being wise as all (that have been happy in your Conversation) must own you may tax me with Imprudence, for not leaving you to judge of the rest, which indeed I ought to have submitted to; but I hope the Love and Esteem I have indifferently for you both, will plead in my behalf, and gain me an Excuse: And so Madam [...] wishing you in every station all manner of felicity, I take my leavee, and am

Your most humble and most obliged Servant, A. G.

The Answer.

Madam,

I Have received your Letter, and am constrained in point of Generosity to return you my hearty thanks for the Care you take of my welfare, and espe­cially in what most materially concerns my future Tranquility; the Gentleman you mention, has in­deed payed me some visits of late, and I have no reason to reproach him for his Civility; but consi­dering Marriage is a great work, and ought not to be enter'd upon without much mature deliberation I cannot oblige my self rashly to enterprize it by giving a hasty consent, but must take time to consider on it as a weighty matter, and although my thoughts were not before averse to an Alteration of my Condition, I must confess the Character you have given on the part of my Lover, has not a little heightned my Esteem of him: But Modesty bidding me be silent in that matter, least I shou'd be censured as too for­ward in so great a concern, I rest, and am,

Madam, Your most obliged Servant, R. C.

A Country Letter from Robin to Joan.

Honest Joan,

I Can but think ever since you and I were together at the Wake, what a great mind I have had to Buss thee, I wou'd indeed have come to thy Father's House and have cracked a Pot of Ale with thee had not I been a great deal busy in getting in the Hay and Gorn, and when that was over in Ploughing the Land; but I will spare so much time before I am a Twelve-month older, as to come and see thee, and that thou [Page 88]maist not think I forget thee, I have sent by this Bearer a Pair of Gloves, and a Top-knot, that thou maist be Alamode, as they call it, and go fine as other Lasses; They cost me Ninepence, I cou'd get them no cheaper: however I think not the Money ill be­stowed since they are for thine own dear self. And Joan, if thou lovest me as I believe thou dost, and have reason to think it ever since thou tookest two Busses for one. Let me have a Line or two from thee to hear how thou dost, and tell the Clark of the Pa­rish I will Pay him for writing it, when I come to see thee. And so I bid thee heartily good buy, and am,

Your trusty Sweetheart, Robin.

The Answer.

Kind Robin,

THe Clark not being at home, I got the Parson to set pen to Paper, and bid him tell you that I am a great deal glad to hear you are very well, as in­deed I am at this present writing, and am as Impa­tient Bob to see thee, as thou canst wish or imagine; but have been taken up in spinning a pair of Sheers above this Fortnight; yet shou'd you come to see me, I'd make half a Holy-day with you for all that. I have indeed received your Token, and that very kindly, as what cou'd I do less? yet must rate and chide you a little for laying out your Money so sim­ply; consider Bob, Ninepence is a great deal of Mo­ney, and might have been better bestowed, however I take all in good part, and wore the Gloves and Top [...] knot last Sunday for your sake. But can you think it [...] it wou'd have made you have laughed to almost b [...] pissing your self to see how the folk gauped and st [...] ­red at me to see how fine I was, and to speak wh [...] [Page 89]I think I believe many a Lass envyed me for being in the Court fashion, because they were not so them­selves. And now Bob, Paper being scarce, I shall take my leave of thee without any longer occasion, and own my self to all the World if occasion were, That I am,

In Love with no body but your self; in witness whereof I have set my Mark, as not being able to write my Name. J

A Letter from a Country Esquire to his London Mistriss.

Dear Mrs. Betty,

WHat shall I say, or how shall I express my self to make thee know how much I love thee? As for thy Father, he knows it, for I told him all my Affections when he was last in the Country, and I hope he has told thee as much. I shewed him too, my Sheep, Cows, Horses, and all my Domestic Cat­tle and Poultry, with my Warrens and parks of Deer, my Ground, and Stacks of Corn and Hay, and many other things too tedious to mention in an Epistle, and told him what I wou'd Joynter thee in; for indeed thou art worth more than I have to give for thee: However if thou wilt love me, thou shalt have me in­to thee Bargain: Your Father seemed well enough to approve and like of all the concern, but told me withal, that he left you free to your Choice, and that he wou'd compel you to nothing, but I must make way my self to your Affections, which I am now en­deavouring to do, and I hope I shall not labour in­vain, for as soon as I know how you rellish this, I will come and see you my self: And so no more, in hast I am,

Your very Loving Servant, W. N.

The Answer.

Sir,

I Have received your Letter, and am surprized t [...] find you should fall in Love with one you neve [...] see; what you have learned of me from my Father I know not, yet Love being grounded upon seeing and liking; I cannot but wonder you shou'd choose you know not what; you know not but I may be old and deformed, ill-natured and crooked conditioned for you must imagine Parents will be partial in set­ting off their Children, forbearing to expose their Infirmities leaving them the rather to be discovered by others; and indeed themselves will not many times see what is too apparent, which begat the Pro­verb, viz. Every Bird thinks her young the fairest wherefore I'd have you better advise & consider be fore-hand, if it be possible for men so to do, you settle your Affections upon you know not whom nor wh [...] for really as you are a Stranger I am concerned [...] you, and wou'd not have you unsight and unseen pir [...] upon a bad Bargain; which may give you cause to [...] ­pent hereafter, you speak too of a Visit you inte [...] to pay me; but I think you may spare the labo [...] for I am confident you won't like me when you s [...] me, and then I may give you cause to repine at the trouble and Expence I shall occas [...]on you: My Fa­ther indeed told me all that passed between you and him, by which I understand you are in a Capacity to render a Woman happy; and I can now only wi [...] perhaps I had known your mind sooner, for reall [...] not to trifle long with you nor hold you in suspen [...] you have declared your self too late, unless I h [...] two hearts; but Nature allowing me no more tha [...] one, That one is already given away, past recall; an [...] so wishing you better success in your next Address, [...] [Page 91]return you for your good opinion of me, my hearty thanks, and subscribe my self,

Sir, Your most humble Servant to Oblige you in what I may, A. P.

A Letter from a Mistriss to tax her Lover with Inconstancy.

Sir,

COu'd I have thought you false after so many Pro­testations, I had not so easily believed and trusted you with my honour: Little did I think when you made your addresses in so humble a strain accompa­nying your amorous Discourse with such seemingly serious Protestations, that such falshood attend your Sex; but since by sad Experience I have found that the Seas and Winds are not less stable, nor wandring Fires that delude belated Travellers more false; I am constrained to let you know how much I resent your Ingratitude, though through the strength of mind that always supports me, I could have refrained to let you see what you perhaps may glory to account a woman­ish weakness in me, and have remain'd as unconcern'd as you; nay done it with that Ease I shook you from my heart; but this I do to prevent your heaping more guilt upon your self by protesting perhaps here­after your ignorance and innocence, though at the same time you know it to be otherwise; nor is it less in my power to be revenged, wou'd I give my self up to the study of it; but I think it the more gene­rous and nobler way not to suffer my Soul to sink so low, but rather to leave you to be punished by your conscious guilt, and so from this time rasing you out of my Memory, I date it the happy moment of my recovered freedom, and remain, false man henceforth entirely at my own dispose.

M. Q.

A Letter from one Friend to another upon his Deliverance from Trouble and Danger, &c.

Dear C.

I Am not a little overjoyed that you have escaped the Danger that lately threatned you, nor have I had a moments sound repose till the happy News of your deliverance sounded in my Ears, so powerful is the sympathy where true Friendship dwells, nor is the News less welcom to the rest of your Friends and Relations in these Parts, and so much the more since we are assured as we never doubted what your Inno­cence deserved; you came off with that Credit, that your candid Reputation appeared more and more justifyable; nor let it at all deject or trouble you that you have been causelesly molested, seeing it is the common chance of Mankind to meet with Crosses and Vexations in this life, the World it self being fitly compared to a Sea that is restless, and Men to the Ships therein, which can never promise them­selves always to be free from a Storm; Troubles come to the best of Men, and Crowns have frequently Thorns in 'em, and sit many times uneasie upon the Head of the Monarch. It's true some men are fa­voared with a long and un-interrupted Tranquili­ty; yet those find vexations more or less, even on this fide the Grave: Therefore think not your Lot cast in a harder Land than others, but rejoyce that your Misfortunes are but light and trivial to what some thousands undergo; and so with my best wishes committing you to the Protection of the Almighty, I subscribe my self,

Your constant Friend as well in Adversity as Prosperity, G. B.

A Letter of Consolation upon the Death of a Husband.

Dear Madam,

I Having the honour to be ranked amongst the num­ber of your Friends, have taken the boldness upon me to send this Letter of Condolence, to let you know how much I am a sharer in your loss and suf­ferings, That you have lost a kind and indulgent Hus­band, I, and all Mankind that knew him must rea­dily own; nor am I though in some-what a more di­stant degree, a less sufferer, in the loss of a faithful, kind and obliging Friend; yet we must both consider that it is the certain Lot of all Mankind sooner or later to leave the troublesome Stage of this World, though whilst the Body sets in the Grave and slum­bers in the gloomy dust, the better part, the immor­tal Soul is freed from the Prison out of which it long has laboured to get and reaches its proper mansion, rises to the Region where Sorrow and Trouble are Strangers, and cou'd it be know that we mourn for such a consideration, such a blessed change, what cou'd it do less than think we envied it's happiness. It must be confessed that a long continued Society where hearts are joined in strictest Bonds of Amity, must needs be unpleasing in the Seperation, and through humane frailty and natural affections, we are loath to part with what we love; yet seeing there is an invincible necessity, we ought to sustain such Losses with Patience and Moderation preparing to follow what we cannot keep. These Considera­tions, Dear Madam, ought to sway with you, and dry your Eyes that flow too much for what is past recall, and so in hopes you will moderate your Grief [Page 94]and be thereby more Tender of your Health, as I hi­therto have, I shall ever continue to be,

Your faithful Friend and Servant, J. B.

A Letter from a Virgin under Restraint to her Lover, &c.

Sir,

I Suppose you are not Ignorant that (since our Loves were discovered, and our Secrets betrayed by the false Confident you trusted with our Affairs) I have been under restraint & narrowly watched by the stri [...] order of my Parents; however least you should have no knowledge of it, and suppose I purposely neglect to meet you in the usual retirement I have not with­out some difficulty procured this Letter to be commit­ted to your hands, making it an Ambassador of m [...] Constancy and good Affections, not doubting bu [...] that it will find you in that Peace and Tranquilli­ty that I esteem equal with my own, If not Supe­riour, and had rather suffer than be the occasion of disturbing your quiet— However, as I conceive there is a more than ordinary cause. In brief, am daily pressed, not only by my Parents, but by a new Lover to withdraw my Affections from you, and place them elsewhere; though you need not fear but I am armed against all Perswasions of that kind; nay, even against the most rigorous threats, yet I would not have you so secure, but that you may at least imagine I may be compelled to do that again [...] my will, which you may assure your self I will no [...] do with it; and so contenting my self in some mea­sure to have given you this timely notice, and sub­mitting the rest to your discretion, I remain,

Your Distressed yet Constant Elira.

The Answer.

Fairest of Creatures,

I Have received your Letter, the Reading of which has darted an Air of Sadness through my Soul, and so sensibly afflicted me, that I altogether account my self unhappy who am the Cause of your Suffe­rings, and cou'd willingly pay my life as a ransom for your Liberty, if no other means might be found to procure it; but since I hope there are many ways to effect it, I will not at this time deprive you of the Joys you may justly expect thereby, nor gratifie my Enemy or pretended Rival, in a thing perhaps he so [...]ch wishes for, That he may with less difficulty [...]ake his Advances to storm your heart, which suc­ [...]ess, if it cou'd possibly so fall out, wou'd even di­ [...]b me in my Grave; but confiding in your intire [...]nd unalterable Affections, such fears vanish like a [...]rning mist, and know my Studdies are wholly taken up about your deliverance, which I will not to tedious in compassing: And so I remain,

Your much afflicted Servant, G. B.

A Letter from a Brother to a Sister.

Dear Sister,

[...] Can but Rejoyce that time and opportunity have [...] befriended me thus seasonably to write unto you; [...]g indeed have I desired to make my self so hap­ [...]y, but it unhappily fell out that my Business or [...]ant of opportunity to send my Letter obstructed [...]; however hoping this imperfect Messenger will [...] you in good health, I conceive an inward Joy [Page 96]at your welfare, and with all the tenderness of a Brother, will not fail for the future to put up my Prayers for a continuance of it, and hope in a short time to pay you a Visit; in the mean-while, since so fair an opportunity frequently offers of writin [...] to you, I shall not be negligent therein; but i [...] that respect and regard as in all others, contin [...] to be,

Your ever loving Brother, C. D.

The Answer.

Kind Brother,

I Have received your Letter, and return you [...] hearty thanks for your vouchsafeing to take su [...] Care of me, and shall not in a Sisterly affection [...] any ways behind-hand in making a due return a [...] Acknowledgment; nor can I thus constrained [...] your Generosity do less, though my tender though [...] considering our Alliance in Blood or Proxsangui [...] might have otherways moved me to it, yet yo [...] tedious Absence has not a little sensibly afflicted me and therefore I cou'd wish that no Business had th [...] power or efficacy thus to divide us, though I blush [...] to think any over fondness shou'd arise in me th [...] might in the least prejudice or be a hinderance [...] you in your Affairs: And so in Expectation you w [...] give me the happiness of seeing you with all con [...] ­nient speed, I remain,

Your ever loving Sister, A. D.

A Letter of Consolation and Advice from a Friend, to one that is in Love.

SIR,

I Have of late perceived you to give your self up to Melancholy, and shun, as much as in you lyes, the company you formerly so much delighted in, which has not made me, as a friend that highly ten­ders your felicity, a little inquisitive into the cause; and therein I have been so successfull as to satisfie my self, the cause proceeds from a disappointment in Love, a thing I the least suspected, as not imagining that a person of your firmness and strength of mind could at all be shaken on so frivolous an occasion: yet since it so happens, that you are not proof against the Charms of a beauteous face, what remains but that you pursue the object you so much desire, and let her mow the conquest she has made. Muster up then your drooping spirits, and with a resolution great, like your self, boldly tell her how much you love, and [...]erpect to find the like returns. Consider, Woman was but made for Man, and that the most fair, the most proud, and most ambitious of the Sex, have been con­quered by an adventurous and daring onset, whilst those that pine at a distance, and fear to tell their mind, or press on with bravery to storm, in a manner, the Breasts of their Mistresses. have, after a long obse­quious attendance, large expence and languishment, seen her fall an easie Conquest to another, whilst they have been lookers on: or if she is not to be wone by reason of a too austeer reservedness, without difficul­ty call Reason to man you, and be as indifferent as the is coy; and so you will, by degrees, either con­quer your Passion, or by letting her see she has no [Page 98]power to give you trouble, lessen the esteem she has of her self, and that will give you a fairer opportunity to parley with her upon equal terms: and so, in hopes this advice may be something serviceable to you, in relation to what it mentions, I continue to be,

Sir, Your most faithfull Friend, T. B.

The Answer.

SIR,

I Received your Letter, and find my self in friend­ship and generosity constrained to return you my gratefull acknowledgment and unfeigned thanks for your advice and good-will towards me; but must at the same time express my self sorry that you should give your self so much trouble as to inquire into the affair, it being the tenderest business of my life, an [...] the very center of my happiness or misery, according as I succeed or fail in my expectations; for she who [...] I adore, and takes up all my heart, unless a reserv [...] in friendship for you. is adorned with no commo [...] Beauty, nor replenished with a vulgar Virtue, bu [...] shines for both, in the sphere of her Sex, like the fir [...] moving Star, and by her Majestick presence command an Awfull distance. those that are not in Love, [...] is true, may easily prescribe Rules to those that are as every body will be giving directions to the sick but those that are in Love, like me, and feel a flam [...] like mine, must needs confess that it comes near t [...] Impotency; for when we presume most upon o [...] strength, and boldly resolve to unburthen our labour­ing thoughts to move compassion in the Saint [...] adore; all on a sudden our Tongues begin to faulter a trembling seizes every Nerve, and words forge [...] their way; instead of which, sighs and abrupt stam­morings take place; blushes and eager gazes still suc­ceed [Page 99]or accompany them: However, encouraged by you, whose Counsels never failed me at my greatest need; the fair one shall know for whom I languish, though thunder-struck by her frowns, I fall before her anger, and am lost for ever. And so, dear Sir, with all imaginable returns of Thanks, and the long Endearments, of our Mutual friendship, I take the boldness to subscribe my self,

Sir, Your most affectionate Friend and Servant, A. C.

A Letter from a young Lover to his Mistriss.

Dear Madam,

PArdon my boldness that, unknown to you, I pre­sume to send this Letter as a Messenger to tell you I am your Captive, and that I only wait the fa­vourable opportunity to lay my self at your feet, and pay those profound Respects due to your Bounty and Virtue; till which happy time, if Heaven vouchsafe [...] a great blessing, I must languish between hope of your goodness and compassion towards me, and de­spair of being accepted into the number of those you vouchsafe to cast your smiles upon: but if you are so mercifull as you are fair, and esteemed Virtuous, I may promise my self that you will not be so unkind as altogether to deny me access to your Presence, but at least suffer me, if fate or any hard fortune has or­dained me miserable, to receive my doom in person from your fair lips, which of the two extreams may prove the milder: Therefore, fairest of creatures, in expectation of knowing your pleasure, I flatter my self with the happiness to subscribe, that I am,

Madam, Your most affectionate and most obedient Servant, P. C.

The Answer.

SIR,

YOur Letter did not a little surprize me, especi­ally when I considered you are altogether a stranger to me, or my conversation; nor can you rea­sonably expect that I should upon second thoughts e­steem of it as any other than the effect of a comple­mental humour, for it is much that you should be so passionately affected as you express your self to wards a Maid, to whom you are so much a stranger; or at least I must afflrm my self so to you, as not ha­ving ever seen you to my knowledge: however, I am not so reserved, but I thought fit to return you these Lines; and further to let you know, that when I am better informed as to your Person and Merits, I shall better and more at leasure consider what to determine as to your requiring to pay me a visit, which I am not so curious in refusing, as far as the bounds of Modesty will admit, to any Gentleman, whose mind is vertu­ous, and his intentions honest: and till I better un­derstand your Worth, I must beg your pardon, and only, take leave to subscribe my self

A friend to Virtuous Inclinations, A. G

A Passionate Letter to Reproach a Scornfull Mistriss.

Madam,

WHat more can be expected from the most obse­quious Slave than I have performed; how have I marked your Eyes, and taken the least motion for a command to do you service; how have I neglected my own affairs, and with all the diligence expressible, la­boured to let you see by my service how much I was yours, and how truly I loved you: but what is my [Page 101]reward; nothing but scorn and disdain, when others reap the harvest of your smiles, and are highly ca­ressed: O the ingratitude of Woman! into what a Monster can it form it self, had it been once sounded with an Angel-Trumpet in my Ears, that the seeming virtuous, fair, charming Bellamira could have been false and inconstant as the Winds to the Man she promised so fair, and at so light a rate, broke all her vows and promises of an unalterable fidelity: I durst not believe it; but now too plain I find that they were uses; yet, false one, I will not curse nor repine, but bear my suffer­ings with patience; and though the grief sits heavy on my soul', yet with a manly courage I'll suppress my woe; and having once shook off these chains, be free for ever from the fatal mischief that attends on Love, and befalls,

Fair One, still my own and C. D.

The Answer.

SIR,

I Cannot but wonder you should be so much concern­ed to be rejected, seeing the encouragements I gave you were never so large as to ground any hope of suc­ceeding upon: And as for your officiousness, it was in your own choice whether you would have persevered in such diligence or not; and although I am constrai­ned to confess your services merited my thanks, which I often rendered you; and I, though it had been suf­ficient, yet you aiming higher, no marvel if you was rejected. Women, Sir, in these days, are improved in craftiness, and wear their Lovers like their Gar­ments, putting one on to day, and another to mor­row, and would not willingly wear out any, but when they are pressed to declare themselves; then it is time to pull off the Vizor to those they cannot affect, [Page 102]and let them discover how vain their hopes have been: and this, Sir, is your misfortune, if it be worth your terming it so; however, I shall not be wanting to continue such an esteem for you as you have meri­ted, but would by any means advise you to withdraw your affections, if you have placed any upon me be­yond the bounds of friendship and civil conversation: and so I take leave to remain

Your Friend and Servant, A. C.

Directions or Superscriptions of Letters to Persons of sundry Qualities, &c. Internal and Ex­ternal.

1. External or outward Superscriptions.
  • TO The King's most Excellent Majesty, or
  • To the Sacred Majesty of James the Second, &c.
  • To the Queen's most Excellent Majesty.
  • To his Royal Highness the Prince of D.
  • To her Royal Highness the Princess of D.
  • To his Grace the Lord Arch-Bishop of Cant.
  • To his Grace the Lord A. B. of York, or
  • To the most Reverend Father in God, &c. And to all other Bishops, viz. To the Right Reverend Father in God H. Lord-Bishop of L.
  • To his Grace the Duke of S. or, To the High-Born Prince A. B. Duke of S.
  • To the Right Honourable the Marquess of W.
  • To the Right Honourable the Earl of C.
  • To the Right Honourable the Lord Viscount F.
  • To the Right Honourable the Lord P. Baron of D.
  • To the Honourable Lord C. that is, the Son of a No­ble [Page 103]Man, for they are always styled Honourable, though but esquires, &c.
  • To his Excellence A. B. Ambassador from the High and Mighty Prince L. &c. and so to any Ambassador.
  • To his Excellency L. E. of F. Captain-General of his Majesties Forces, &c. And so to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.
  • To all Privy Counselors, the Lord Chancellor, the L, Chamberlain, L. Steward of his Majesties Houshold, Secretary of State, Lord Privy Seal, &c. you must direct your Letter, viz. To the Right Honoura­ble, &c. and after that mention their Office and Dignity, as the rest.
  • To the Right Worshipfull T. B. Knight and Baronet.
  • To Sir B. B. Knight, These humbly present.
  • These for L. C. Esq or the Worshipfull L. C. Esq
  • To the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor of the City of London: and so to the Lord Mayor or the City of York, or only to the Honourable the Lord Mayor of York, &c. And all those that have passed the Chair as Lord Mayors of London, are ever styled Honour­able.
  • To the Worshipfull Alderman A. C.
  • To the Worshipfull M. C. Sheriff of London, &c.
  • To the Reverend Judge A. B. or, To the Reverend A. B. one of his Majesties Justices, &c.
  • To M. C. Serjeant at Law.
  • To E. G. Counsellor at Law.
  • To any of the Inferiour Clergy direct, viz. To the Reverend T. C. D. D. or as the degree is, naming the Preferment and Dignity.
  • All Mayors of Burg-Towns, or Masters of Corporati­ons or Companies by the King's charter are ever after styled Esquires.
  • [Page 104]To all private Gentlemen, viz. These for Mr. T. C. To all Gentlewomen, &c. To Madam A. C. To Mrs. B. D. But if she be the Wife of a Duke, Marquess, Earl, Viscount Baron, Baronet, Knight, &c. Then you must give the Title as Dutchess, Marchioness, Countess, Viscountess, Baroness, La­dy, &c.
Internal Superscriptions.
  • These are those that are written on the top of the Letter or superscription, &c. Viz.
  • To the King, Sir, Dread Sir, or, May it please Your Majesty, or Sacred Sir, or Dread Soveraign.
  • To the Queen, Madam, or, May it please your Maje­stie.
  • To the Prince, royal Sir, or, May it please your Royal Highness.
  • To the Princess, Madam, or, May it please your Royal Highness.
  • To a Duke, My Lord, or, May it please your Grace.
  • To a Dutchess, Madam, or, May it please your Grace.
  • To a Marquess, My Lord, May it please your Lordship.
  • To a Marchioness, Madam, May it please your Ladi­ship.
  • To an Earl, My Lord, or, May it please your Honour.
  • To his Lady, Madam, or, May it please your Honour. And the like to a Viscount, Viscountess, Baronet, Baroness, &c. only distinguishing the Sex.
  • To a Baronet, May it please the Right Worshipfull.
  • To his Lady, Madam, or, May it please your Ladiship.
  • To a Knight, Sir, or, May it please your Worship.
  • To any Gentleman, Sir, or, Much Honoured: and to any Gentlewoman, &c. indifferently, Madam, or Mistriss, &c.

Complimental Expressions, or Quaint and Modish Deliverances of Sentence, or short Speeches, referring to Men of sundry Qualities, &c.

To the King. MAy it please your most excellent Majesty, so far in your Princely Goodness to condescend, as to accept of the humble acknowledgment, the most devoted of your Subjects and Servants with all humility tenders the King, &c.

Great Sir, or Sacred Sir, May it please you to look down upon your loyal, obedient, and ever-devoted Subject and Servant, and cast a kindly beam on him that lives but to do you service, &c.

To a Duke. Most Honourable Lord, May it please your Grace to vouchsafe your acceptance of this pre­sent from him that lives by your Bounties, and must acknowledge himself and fortunes ever at your com­mand.

May it please the High-born Prince, and my ever­honoured Patron, his Grace the D. of, &c. to accept this humble acknowledgment from his slave, &c.

Most honourable Sir, I can scarce express the joy I conceived, that your sickness or affliction is vanished like a dream, an suffers me to find you in your won­ted tranquillity and peace, &c.

To a Marquess. Most honourable, and my very good Lord, it has not a little exalted the joy I con­ceive at your Presence, since you have been pleased to own my services, and think me worthy of your notice.

To an Earl. Right Honourable, and my most be­nigne Lord, the humblest of your Servants lays him­self, in conceit, at your feet, and acknowledges your bounty.

May it please your Honour to consider how much my daily endeavours are, and how I struggle with all difficulties that oppose to render my self in some man­ner acceptable to your Lordship.

To a Viscount. My honourable Lord, what re­mains, considering the bounties and favours you have heaped upon me, but that I make it the business of my life, in some measure, to make me a requital.

To a Baron. May Lord, May I presume to lay my self at your feet whilst I can have time and utterance to express my self how much I am indebted to your bounty, which in all places I must acknowledge.

To a Baronet. Right Worshipfull Sir, the Obligati­ons you have laid upon me are such, that I blush to think that it is not in my power to make any sutable return.

to a Knight. Sir, May it please your Worship to accept this first acknowledgment of my gratitude, though I must confess it unworthy of your no­tice; yet knowing your goodness, I grounded my pre­sumption thereon.

Expressions that may be indifferentiy applied to any Man.

Sir, I am the humblest of your Servants, and no­thing joys me more than that my Ears are dally filled with the pleasing sound of your noble Actions and glorious Atchievements.

Sir, Your favour has revived me; and what shall I do, or how shall I express my self that some gratefull acknowledgment may appear, or that I may be any­wa [...] a [...]counted worthy to be named amongst the number of your friends.

Sir, I must own my self the happiest of Mankind, since I am truly satisfied you have pardoned my rude­ness, [Page 107]committed more through inconsiderateness than any affront or disloyalty to friendship.

Sir, I shall ever esteem your happiness as my own, nor shall I share a joy willingly but with your self.

Sir, I own my self indebted to you in so high a nature, and my Abilities so small to bring me off, that I must confess my self at a loss, how I shall in any measure make you a sutable return; yet my will is good, and my person and service shall ever be at your devotion.

Sir, Did you know how earnestly I strive to pay an acknowledgment due to your Virtues, and how lit­tle I am able to perform, you wou'd, past doubt, pity my fruitless labours.

Sir, when I seek for a Theam to inlarge upon, your Name is sufficient at once to supply and charm me, the sound of it being enough to compleat my largest intention, and to inspire me with rapture.

Great indeed, Sir, have been the Obligations you have laid upon me, and great must be my thoughts if I durst presume to make a sutable return.

The Man, Sir, that secures your friendship, must of necessity account himself rich, and repine no more at fortune.

Sir, I am proud of your last visit, and can only say that my poor habitation was never so grac'd, nor made so happy till then; knowing your parts, I cou'd do no less than chuse you to manage my affairs, and find by grand experience that I have so well prospered in your hands, that I find my self at a loss to let you know how much I am yours.

Sir, I have heard of your worth by fame, but find she has been to partial in not magnifying your de­serts as truly they deserve.

Dear friend, Command me to do you service, that you may be a witness with what willingness and zeal I fly to serve you.

Dear friend, how much am I honoured by being seen in your company, and improved by your con­versation.

I am, dear friend, the gratefull acknowledger of your bounty; and shou'd I forget it, I might be justly termed a monster in ingratitude.

Sir, I have met you so seasonably, that I must bless the opportunity which affords me this favour, and own that it has made me happy beyond my expecta­tion.

Sir, I must almost with admiration, but especially with repeated thanks to Heaven and you, own I have found in you a true and real friend in that by with true friendship can only be distinguished from flat­tery.

Sir, you do me too much honour in giving your self the trouble to grace my habitation.

Dear Sir, I am the humblest and most obedient of your Servants.

Sir, I am yours to be commanded, in what at all times you shall think convenient, to do you pleasure.

Sir, I shall make it my study, and will be proud that I can find out any way to oblige you.

Sir, As I am an honourer of true worth, I confess I can place my respects no-where better than in con­tinuing your Admirer.

Sir, Since your have been pleased to give me the fa­vour of a visit, let me return you my hearty thanks, and give you this further trouble, that you will bear my Service and Respects to your Lady.

Sir, Command my life and fortunes, and I'll lay 'em with the greatest willingness at your feet.

Sir, Let me embrace you with all the tender En­dearments of a friend and tell you at what a rate I value your Love and Friendship.

Complimental Expressions, &c. of the like nature to the Female Sex.

To the Queen. MAy it please your royal Majesty, out of the abundance of your Lenity and Princely compassion, graciously from your station of highest Honour and Eminence, to cast your Eyes upon the lowliest of your Servants, though un­worthy of so great a favour.

May it please the Sacred Majesty of the Royal Con­sort, to accept the Services of one who has no Ambi­tion beyond the desire of serving her with the ut­most zeal and diligence, &c.

To a Dutchess. May it please your Grace to consi­der that I live but by your smiles; and when you frown, I must revert to what I was before I had a being.

May it please the High-born Princess, the Dutchess of, &c. to consider the supplication of her Servant, and be piteous as she is good and fair.

To a Countess. Most honourable Lady, what shall I say to express the gratitude I owe you, or how shall I sufficiently acknowledge my self for the favours I have received at your hands.

To a Viscountess. Madam, May it please your Ho­nour, that without offence I may tender you my ser­vice, and that you would raise my Ambition by put­ting it in my power to make, though an imperfect re­turn of the honour you have already done me.

To a Baroness. Madam, Your Honour is so full of good nature, that you bankrupt and quite exhaust my stock even of sutable thanks, or gratefull expressions and acknowledgments for and of so transcendent a liberality.

To a Baronettess. Most honoured Lady, how shall I frame my Words, or manage my Tongue to render you in any case sensible, or let you know in what re­spect, or for what cause I am wholly devoted to your service.

Madam, I am at a loss to express to any hight that which may relish like an acknowledgment of your goodness.

To a Lady, the Wife of a Knight. Madam, May it please your Ladi­ship to render me the satisfacti­on of laying your Commands upon me, that I may show you how willing at all times I am to wait upon you and do you service.

To the Female Sex in General.

DEar Madam, conquered by your fair Eyes, I come to lay me at your feet, and acknowledge my selt your slave.

Madam, my life depends upon your smiles; and if you frown, I must drop into the shades, and be no more.

Best of Women, extend your wonted compassion to your servant, who labours under a languishment beyond expression, and expects no cure but from her that gave the wound.

Madam, if I may presume to express my self, I must tell you I love, and that your self is the happy object I doat upon.

Fair Mistriss, how shall I make my sufficient ac­knowledgments for the many favours I have received at your hands; all I can do is to make it the business of my life to study a requital.

Madam, your Beauty, your Wit and singular Parts make a treble conquest over my affections.

Lady, I must blush when I consider you have cause to tax me with ungentility in not performing my promise, but relying upon your goodness, I hope my excuse may prevail with you for once.

Fairest of Creatures, pity the Man that loves you more than life, and wou'd be proud to fall-your sacri­fice did you command it.

Madam, though you are severe, and give me de­spair, which renders life tedious and troublesome; yet know when I fall your Martyr, no harsh words shall fall from my lips, but at the last gasp, the twi­light between life and death, I'll faintly breathe a blessing on you.

Madam, consider I ash your Creature. and can sub­sist no longer than I am supported by your smiles.

Madam, how long shall I languish and feed upon Camelions fare; if you resolve not to yield me Love for all my faithfull services, be kind and tell me so, that I by death at least may ease me of this lingring torment.

Madam, your Virtues exceed the Charms of Beau­ty, and are the lasting Jewels that adorn you.

Madam, hard is the fate of Lovers where such Ex­cellence appears to dash their great Resolves, and render them feeble and impotent by not being able to tell how much they love.

Thou best of Women, how shall I sufficiently ex­toll your goodness; how shall I lay my self low enough at your feet, to let you know how sensible I am of the obligations you have laid upon me.

Great indeed, fair Lady, wou'd be my happiness, if what you speak in jest cou'd fink into my heart, that it might one day be in earnest.

Madam, blame me not for my pretensions to Love, since the power of that God is so universal, that he [Page 112]rides Triumphant in every Region, and makes not only Man, but all Creatures feel his force.

Save, dear Madam, your languishing Servant from a Grave into which he is dropping, and there must lye in dark oblivion, unless your redeeming smiles retrieve his fate.

Ah, Madam, if loving too well be a crime; if any can be said to do so, when you are the bright object of his affections, pardon that offence, since Love is the highest Attribute of Heaven, and that by which we rise from lumpish Earth, as high as everlasting life.

Great (Madam) it has been my Endeavour to serve you, and you repay me with frowns: Consider, dear Lady, I cannot live in storms, considering the weak­ness of the Bark, but must fall on the Rocks of black Despair, or shipwrack on the Quicksands of Dis­dain.

Madam, your Eyes are my two polar Stars by which I steer to my haven of happiness.

Madam, your favour makes me richer than the Treasures of the Indies.

Charmed sweet Lady, by the fame of your Beauty I gave scope to my heart to love you before I beheld these bright Eyes; and now am more blessed to con­firm it, considering the reports of fame that run high in others, have run low in you, and forgot or over­looked more than half your Merit. What shall I say, divinest of Creatures, to mollifie your heart, that I may after so long a siege find a yielding there!

Happy, Madam, is the Man upon whom you shall cast your favours, for he will be exalted above his fellows in the transcendency of joy.

Much delighted Madam, with your pleasant and harmless conversation I am imboldned at this time to intrude into your company.

Pleased, sweet Lady, by gazing upon you, I follow you like your shade, to feast my eyes on those Beau­ties my Ambition dare not pretend to enjoy.

Happy, sweet Lady, is the Man that lives in the [...]hadow of your favour, for there he may supinely re­pose, and be secured from the scorching of the Tor­rid Zone of your scorn under which others must swel­ter and languish.

Madam, give Audience to your slave, since I only live to tell you how much I love you, and then ex­pire.

Madam, since you refuse to shew me any mercy, I am resolv'd to try the Waves, who, doubtless, in their greatest fury will be kinder.

Madam, you stand like an impregnable Tower a­gainst the assaults of all Mankind.

Madam, the Roses and the Lillies in your fair Cheeks are always in contention, though they seem to live in peace, and hold an equal reign, since nei­ther get the mastery.

Madam, your golden hair appears like flowing Amber upon your Head, that Globe of Wisdom; and your Forehead, like a Rock of Alablaster, reflecting the Sun-beams to inlighten the pleasant Vails beneath; your Eyes resemble two Diamond Quarries, and your Lips and Teeth, the Coral and the Pearly spoil of the richer Ocean; and all the rest more charming than the Spring deckt in her utmost Glories.

O! tell me, fairest Mistriss, if without offence I may dare to approach the presence of so divine a Crea­ture; yet, methinks, where so much Beauty is ingros­sed, kindness and good-nature ought to be its hand­maids.

Madam, in you both Love and Honour wait; and Fortune is your slave.

Madam, the Charms that adorn your lovely Face [Page 114]cannot be formed even in the largest thought, much more be characterized, as they truly deserved, by tongues of Mortals.

Madam, your Angellick beauties lay snares to intrap my soul, which wou'd have ease from pains it do's already feel.

Madam, to what a boundless hight of Ambition must the Man arise that dares to court your smiles.

Fairest of your Sex, if no other favour can be yield­ed, honour me with a salute of your fair hand.

Madam, I am at a point; if you refuse me, I have resolved to chuse a nobler Fate than thus, like Niobe, to grieve till I become a Marble Statue.

Heal the Wounds, sweet Lady, you have made, and be not cruel to let me live in pain, when it is in your power to ease me.

Madam, to fall a sacrifice and expire, is the least part of my grief; but to be divorced by death from your fair self is intolerable.

Madam, instruct me how I shall find out a way to requite the favours you have been pleased to cast upon me.

Madam, I have endeavoured to the utmost of my power, in hopes my officiousness might have turned to some small account, whereby you might have reap­ed the benefit, but find I am at a loss.

Assure your self, fair Lady, that I will ever be con­stant; and when I am otherwise, may your Anger blast me.

Most obliging Madam, what shall I say to render you sensible of the many obligations you have laid upon me!

Madam, as a Captive I surrender my self; for al­though I have a long time been a Rebel in the Empire of mighty Love, yet conquer'd by your goodness, I at length am reclaimed, confessing that I own to you my Conversion.

County Complements, or Expressions, in Busi­ness and Courtship.

HOnest Dick, I am very glad to see thee in good health, and I thank you finely for the kindness you did me the last week.

Tom, I am not a little joyfull to hear thou art Married; and may Jugg be fruitfull, and bring thee every year a swinging Lad.

Honest Ned thou art well met; and seeing we are met under a Sign-Post, let us in, Man, and over a Pot talk of old stories.

Well, Sam, thou canst not think what a friend I have been of thine, to further thy Wooing with Madge—I'll promise thee I buss'd her for thee; and bid her be kind to thee as she lov'd me.

Will, I am heartily contented to see thee; and am glad to hear thy Cows and Sheep thrive so well in thy new Farm.

Robin, thou over-joyest me to meet thee so luckily, for you see I am in my Holy-day Cloaths: And what do'st thou think I am so plaguey fine for? why, I am going to fetch Cib, the Miller's Maid, we are to be Married, to day, and thou shalt be our Bride man.

Roger, thou art so fine a Man, and a fellow of so much wit, that, adad, I admire thy company.

Dear Harry, I present thee this token from Sicely thy Sweetheart; she says she will not be out-done by thee in kindness, and therefore has sent you a pair of Bandstrings in requital for the Gloves you gave her at the last Wake.

Oliver, thou art a Man of Parts, and I must hug thee; I know thou canst write and read, and in good time mayst come to be a Great Man, even the Clark of a Parish.

Will, I see you are a hopefull Lad; for all the Las­ses in the Parish do so gloat upon thee.

Numph; how is it, Man, this Morning? What, up so soon after thy Wedding—Had I been in thy place, my Cows shou'd have lost their Fodder for once and not use it.

O, John! I see you are always hankering here about: Well, I'll be hang'd if thou hast not a Sweet­heart in some corner hereabouts.

Country Expressions, or Complements, to Women.

DEar Margery, what shall I say to thy kindness! methinks I cou'd buss thee for it till to morrow morning.

Kind Jenny, it rejoices me to see how smug you are; thy neatness has often made my chaps water, Ill assure you.

Sweet Mistriss Prue, how long shall I pine, as they call it, and hang my head like a wither'd Tulip or Primrose, before thou'lt say, Honest Jack I am thine?

Cib, thou art my choice, and the Old man, my Father, approves it; therefore prick up thy Ears, and be glad.

Doli, thou art my Pigsnies; and I so much love thee, that methinks I cou'd smuggle thee till I have lost thee.

Kate, you little think what a grumbling you have caused in my Gizard above this fortnight; for, in troth, I was never so out of humour in all my life; adad, I was not as since I gazed upon thy pritty grey Eyes at the last Wake.

Well, Madge, I hear that thy Father and mine have made up the match over a Pot of Ale, and I am come to seal the bargain with a buss, and to let you know [Page 117]I'll fetch you upon my Roan Horse on Sunday next, and we'll be Married together.

Sweet Grace, I must own you are something hand­some; but you are withall so cross and peevish, that a dog wou'd not live with you.

Well, Moll, I have got thy Mothers consent, and now am come to woo thee.

Mistriss Vrsula, methinks ye are the plumpest brown Lass in all the Parish; and cou'd I think you wou'd fall in love with me; I'd tell you a piece of my mind.

Jenny, Jenny—O you little prate-a-pace, thou haft a Tongue well hung; and if I thought you cou'd not scold, avads I'd have you home to be my Wife, and so buss ye when we are treading the Pease-mow together, thou canst hardly dream on't.

Fair Mistriss Peggy, you have so thralled my heart, that I am compelled to follow you as the Cart do's the Horses, where-ever you go.

Quaint and Complemental Expressions, in English Disticks, &c. to be used by Lovers to their Mistresses, on sundry occasions.

1.
MAdam, I own your Charms, confess you fair,
Yet bright as you destroying Angels are.
2.
like you the Moon do's rule her World below,
And as she pleases, makes it ebb and flow.
3.
Like you fair Venus look'd, when the fierce Bore
The tender side of her Adonis tore.
4.
Madam, your Eyes to me inchantments prove,
And Honour I must sacrifice to Love.
5.
Forgive my crime, thou fairest of thy kind,
And let true Penitence some mercy find.
6.
Madam, your slave thus prostrates at your feet,
With floods of Tears begs he may favour meet.
7.
Madam, if I have sinn'd, forget my faut,
Since I to do it by your Eyes was taught.
8.
Favour me, Heav'n, in my enterprize,
If I succeed not a kind Lover's eyes.
9.
Furget me, Madam, if I prove untrue;
Nay, blast me, Lightning, if I ever doe.
10.
Ravish'd by your rare beauty, thus I bow;
This, I conceive, you'll to your slave allow.
11.
O! pardon me thou fair, thou lovely Maid,
That thus my Soul's sweet Charmer I invade.
12.
My Life and Fortunes, Madam, ever stand
To be dispos'd of, as you shall command.
13.
If I offend, it is not with my will;
Then spare the Man whose Soul conceives no ill
14.
If any crime thy Rudeness dur'st commit,
I own my fault, punish as you think fit.
15.
Be patient, Madam, since your Pow'r you know,
You may at leasure work my over throw.
16.
Madam, if I am guilty, punish me;
Take your revenge, to dye by you I'm free.
17.
What have I done, dear Saint, to make you frown;
To make her sad, who all my Joys must crown.
18.
Fame, Honour, Glory, I to you resign,
You are my Sun when you refuse to shine;
shades cover me, and I in darkness pine.
19.
Pleas'd with your smiles, I seek no further joy,
Higher Ambition wou'd my peace destroy.
20.
Madam, your Beauty has me Pris'ner made;
What force can stand, when Beauty do's invade.
21.
Madam, I'm launch'd i'th' deep, you are the Sea;
Your smiles and frowns the Calms and Tempests be.
22.
By your consent, how happy am I made;
I who of Life but late a glimm'ring had,
Am now, by all its faculties, obey'd.
23.
Come all you softer Beauties, come and see,
How Love-united, kindly we agree,
And share the fruits of blest Eternitie.
24.
Fair Maid, forget my crime, and never more
I will offend, but love you, and adore.
25.
Madam, your Conquest is compleat, I yield,
And throwing down my Arms, will quit the field,
For'gainst your pointed Beauty there's no shield.
26.
Pardon the Man your Eyes have made your slave,
And give him, Madam, but the pow'r to live.
27.
Once I believ'd, fair Creature, I was free,
And cou'd your Eyes secure from danger see:
But fatal to my peace deceived was I,
For from them swiftly Death-love Arrows fly.
28.
Since, Madam, I have ever constant prov'd,
I hope I ought at least to be belov'd,
By her whose Breast a cruel thought ne'er mov'd.

Mock-Complements, or Complements Burlesque in Trope and Figure.

SIR, that you are great, we know; nor do's that moving Mountain of Flesh you carry about you demonstrate you otherwise.

Sir, how shall I be able to admire your ingenuity seeing it is in all its effects invisible.

Sir, I wou'd lay my self at the feet of your under standing, if you wou'd be pleased to direct me by what marks I shou'd know it; but otherwise, fearing t [...] stumble upon your imbecillity, instead of it I am lo [...] to hazard the committing an error in friendship and till I am informed, shall suspend my further Com­plement.

Sir, the valuable esteem I have for your Person makes me pity you, seeing your Body and your So are so unequally matched.

Great Sir, I say my Littleness at your feet, [...] there I rest.

Sir, how happy wou'd they be that are raised to the hight of expectation by your large promises, did not you throw them from the Mountain of Hope, into the deep Valley of Despair, by the unkind hand of the Monster non-performance.

Sir, you carry a treasure about you that seems to deride the Indies; for your Face, if it deceives us not, may be taken for a Rock of Rubies.

I wou'd, Sir, with joy be proud of your friendship, if I thought it wou'd not be over-tedious.

Sir, you are as gay as the Bird that expands his gaudy Plumes to the Sun for Mortals to gaze and wonder at; and wise as the long-bill'd Creature, that scorns out of a generous valiantness to shun the dan­ger of the snare.

'Tis impossible, Sir, but you shou'd be the dread of Mankind, since you are so fearfully made, that a Scare-crow is but a puny to you, and Will-in-the-Wisp but an Idiot.

Sir, you are pleasant, and wou'd be taken for a moving Comedy, did you live amongst the Wits.

Sir, great indeed have been my endeavours to screw my self into your acquaintance; since which time I may count my self happy in being made a Pro­ficient in all the exaulted Nonsence imaginable.

Good Sir spare your cringing, and consider it is cast away on him that understands it not.

Sir, in your Anger you are as fierce, and altogether as dangerous, as the stoutest Lion in Smithfield-Pens.

Pray Sir, may it please you, for the satisfaction of those that wish your Absence, to let me have the ho­nour of conducting you home.

Sir, I must confess you should be much admir'd for your ingenuity, breeding, and good parts, though the ungratefull World will allow no body to have the happiness of admiring you but your self.

Mock-Expressions, or Complements Burlesque, to the Female Sex, &c.

MAdam, your Beauties must needs be excellent, and like an Ignis faruis, lead Mankind astray since your Eyes have perpetual Twinkles, bright as Candles burnt within the Socket.

Madam, your Virtues are like the Phoenix, very rare to be found.

Kind Mistriss, your favours are dispensed to all and so common, that no Man need fear in the least to participate of them.

Madam, the severity of your Countenance is a scurge to transgression; for whosoever looks wish­fully upon you in the very moment of his hot-boiling blood, will be antidoted against Lechery.

Madam, the World must needs be melancholy when you are taken from it, seeing you are the Comedy of Mankind, and the Acting-Stage of Recreation.

Madam, the Rosey-colour of Brickbat, mixed with the Amber-colour of Cowslips, adorn your lovely Face, and make it aimable to those that can contemplate and admire your Beauties.

Madam, the Ornament of your Hair hangs dang­ling like the Roots of Cedars; and to catch Lovers, you expand it as the Spider do's her Web, to intrap the Fiies, though not with that caution; for your Nets are so wide, that even the intangled Culleys creep through and escape.

Madam, that you have been Man's meat, appears by the wanton twinkles of your Eyes, and the Ruins of a tollerable good Face; but alas, Time that ene­my to Beauty, has dried you to a Cinder, and lest you only Desire, where you are not to be desired.

Madam your inclinations to pursue Virtue, appear a many things; but you follow it with so slow a [...]ace, that 'tis doubted by some whether you will ever [...]er-take it.

Madam, we might, without doubt, have justly ter­ned you fair, had not deformity been unmannerly to [...]ake place of your beauty.

Madam, your Gravity apears in every action, since [...]ime has been hasty to furrow your Face with wrinkl'd [...]onour, and reduced your Beauty to the complection of a blasted Oak.

Lady, the toss you have with your Head, and that [...]ect with your Buttocks, denote you to be a Wo­man of fine breeding, and to have much conversation with French Dancing-masters, who will have all the wit to lye in Mimmick Postures, &c.

Lady, your Teeth in their yellowness exceed the Amber, and may well be compared to Crysolites.

Madam, the Scarlet-livory your Face wears denotes you to be kind to your self in making glad your heart, and casting away care.

Madam, so great are the obligations wherewith you [...]ave loaded me, that I must lay down my burthen, or I shall faint under them.

Your understanding, sweet Lady, has so large a Country to travel in, that it can rarely be found.

Madam, you have so far obliged me, that I must study the Art of Memory to retain the thoughts of your obligations, least they slip out of my mind, whilst you forget not to tax me with ingratitude.

Madam, ye're so lovely, sweet and charming, that [...]ow I cou'd spend at least half an hour to tell you how much I love you, did not important business [...]rudge me the loss of so much time.

Posies, or Motto's, to be used on sundry occasions.

Madam, my Heart
I'll constant be
What e'er I have,
Whm God has blest,
Now we agree,
To thee my Heatt
This for ever
Untill I dye
Fairest Creature
In Constancy
Let me not find
Let us now hast
Prepare with speed
I will be true
When false I am
Be not unkind
We'll happy live
We'll live and love
What here I give,
No more I'll pine,
What e'er you say,
Love do's invite,
I live and move,
Is your desert.
Fair Maid to thee.
Freely it crave.
Let none molest.
Let's Marry'd be.
I do impart.
With the Giver.
I'll constant be.
I'm your debtor.
I'll live and dye.
That ye're unkind.
The Minutes past.
To be my Bride.
To Love and you.
I'll bear the blame.
Till cause you find.
Let whose will grieve.
Till Death remove.
My Dear receive.
Since thou art mine.
I will obey.
Let us unite.
But by your Love.

Read these, though divided, Cross-ways; As, Madam, my Heart Is your desert, &c.

Mournfull Epethites.

For my sad grief,
I live in pain,
'Tis my sad Heart,
Be pleas'd to give
Alas I dye,
To be more kind,
See cruel Fair,
O! be more just,
Death is more kind,
My bleeding Heart
O! let me go
What have I done
O! save from Death
My pain beguile
In Mercy save
Long have I lov'd,
O! let my Fate
O! can my Dear
One Boon I crave,
If Love's deny'd,
This very hour
In pain I live,
Unconstant Maid
Behold I come,
There's no relief.
And love in vain.
Do's feel the smart.
Me leave to live.
If you deny.
You was design'd.
How I despair.
Or I am Dust.
Than your hard Mind.
Is full of smart.
To shades below.
To set so soon.
My fleeting breath.
With one kind smile.
Me from my Grave.
And constant prov'd.
Have longer Date.
Be still severe.
Pity your slave.
Death is my Bride.
My Fate do's lower.
In vain I grieve.
My life do's fade.
Kind Ghosts make room.

Read these as the former.

Short EPITAPHS.

REader, This Marble claims, as Tribute due,
To the dear Memory of sacred Dust;
A Sigh at least, if not a Tear or two;
The Good lyes here, the Great, the Wise and Just.
Epitaph 2.
IN Honour's bed he dy'd, whom here we lay.
Whilst his free'd Soul mounts to Eternal day;
His Body Heav'n will only here intrust,
Yet will his Fame immortalize his Dust.
Epitaph 3.
WEep, weep no more, like those that vainly deem;
'Tis loss to dye when to dye well is gain:
The Glories of this World are but a Dream,
And all its guilded Pleasures only pain.
Epitaph 4.
HIS Name shall live, his Works do speak his Fame,
Rescu'd from Time, they shall his Worth proclaim.
Fame shall his Voucher to all Ages be,
Fame, that makes half the Orb of round Eternitie,
Shall hug him close, and never let him dye.

The most exact Collection of choice SONGS, upon sundry occasions, as they are Sung in Court, City and Country: To the newest & most delightful Tunes, &c.

The Lover's Happiness: A new Song.

(1.)
ALL joy to Mortals, Joy and Mirth,
Eternal Joys we sing;
The God of Love descends to Earth,
His Darts have lost their sting.
The Youth shall now complain no more,
On Sylva's needless scorn;
But the shall love, if he adore,
And melt when he do's burn.
(2.)
The Nymph no longer shall be shy,
But leave the Jilting Road;
And Daphne now no more shall fly,
The wounded panting God:
But all shall be sereen and fair,
No sad Complaints of Love
Shall fill the gentle whispering Air,
No Echoing sighs the Grove.
(3.)
Beneath the Shades young Strephon lyes,
Of all his Wish possest,
Gazing on Sylva's charming Eyes,
Whose Soul is there confest.
All soft and sweet the Maid appears,
With Looks that know no Art;
And though she yields with trembling fears,
She yields with all her heart.

The Lovely Thief surpriz'd: A Song.

(1.)
FAir and soft Corinda came,
When night had mantl'd up the day;
But oh! her Eyes they darted flame,
That her approach did soon betray.
She, like kind Cinthia, thought to steal
From me an Am'rous kiss, or twain;
But she such beauty to conceal,
The shades Darkness had implor'd in vain.
(2.)
For as she undiscover'd thought,
With easie steps to make retreat,
The lovely Thief I kindly caught,
And softly did the Charmer greet.
Ah! why, said I, do you take pains
Thus to defraud me of a kiss,
When still it in your pow'r remains,
To be the Mistriss of a greater bliss.
(3.)
She blush'd and sigh'd at the surprize,
Look'd down, and knew not what to say;
And strove to hide her pritty Eyes,
And fain she wou'd have gone away:
But in my Arms the lovely Maid,
Clad in her soft temptation, I
Held fast till her, Loves flame, betray'd,
The grand Existences of his joys to try.

The Triumph: A Song.

(1)
LET Murmurring Lovers no longer repine,
But their Hearts and their Voices advance;
Let the Nymphs and the Swains in their kind Chorus joyn,
And the Saters and Fauns in a Dance.
Let Nature put on her beauty of May,
And the Fields and the Meadows adorn,
Let the Woods and the Mountains resound with the joy,
And the Echoes the Triumph return.
(2.)
Since Aminta the fair one is mine, and no more,
I now shall have cause to be sad;
But in Joys we will Revel, and never give o'er,
Till the World it shall think we are mad:
Yet we care not who thinks, let it be what it will,
Our Pleasures all thought shall exceed;
A true Lovers pleasure, when envy'd, will swell,
And the more 'tis disturbed will breed.

The New Transport: A Song.

WHen Amintas lay prest, in the Arms he lov'd best,
With his hands round her Neck, and his head on her Breast;
He found the first Pleasures to stray,
And his Soul in a Tempest was flying away.
When Sylva saw this, with a sigh and a kiss,
She cry'd, Oh, my Dear, am I robb'd of my bliss?
'I was unkind to your Love, and unfaithfully done,
To leave you behind me, and dye all alone.
The Youth though in hast, and breathing his last,
In pity dy'd slowly, whilst she dy'd more fast;
Till at length she cry'd, Now my Love, now let me go;
Now dye my Amintas, and I will dye too.
Thus intranc'd they did lye, till Amintas did try,
To recover his breath, that again he might dye.
Thus often they dy'd; Oh, the more they did so,
The Nymph dy'd more quick, and the Shepherd more slow.

The Marry'd Man's Comfort: A Song.

TO Friend and to Foe,
And to all that I know,
That to Marriage Estate do prepare;
Remember your days, in your several ways,
Are trouble, with sorrow and care:
For he that doth look,
In the Marry'd Man's book,
And read but the Items all over,
Shall find 'em to come,
At length to a summ,
Shall empty Purse, Pocket, and Coffer.
In Pastimes of Love,
When their Labour doth prove,
And the Kinchin beginneth to kick,
For this and for that,
And I know not for what,
The Woman must have or be sick.
There's Item set down,
For a loose-body'd Gown,
In her Longing you must not deceive her,
For a Bodkin, a Ring,
And the other fine thing,
For a Cornet and Lace to be braver.
Deliver'd, and well,
Who is't cannot tell,
That whilst the Child lyes at the Nipple;
There's Item for Wine,
'Mongst Gossips so fine,
And Sugar to sweeten their Tipple.
There's Item I hope,
For Starch and Soap;
There's Item for Fire and Candle;
For better for worse,
There's Item for Nurse,
The Baby to dress and to dandle.
When swadl'd in Lap,
There's Item for pap,
And Item for Pot, Pan, and Ladle;
A Corral with Bells,
Which custome compells,
And Item a Crown for a Cradle.
With twenty odd knacks,
Which the little one lacks,
And thus doth thy pleasure betray thee;
Yet this is the sport,
In Country and Court,
Then let not the Charges dismay thee.

Beauties Ruin: A Song.

(1.)
WHen Dorinda first I courted,
She had Charms, and Beauty too;
Conquering Pleasures when she sported,
The Transport it was ever new:
But wastfull time do's now deceive her,
Which her Glories did uphold;
All her Arts can ne'er relieve her,
Poor Dorinda is grown Old.
(2.)
The Airy Spirits which invited,
Are retir'd, and move no more;
And those Eyes are now benighted,
Which were Diamonds heretofore.
Want of Charms, abate her Merits,
Yet I've Passion for her Name;
Only kind and Amorous Spirits
Kindle and maintain a flame.

The Melancholy Lover: A Song.

(1.)
FArewell my hopes, welcome, welcome despair,
Death now must free my weary Soul from care:
Lost and forlorn, I sigh and mourn,
Wrapp'd as it were in Clouds of fears,
I'm ever drowning in salt Seas of Tears;
Where Constancy once seem'd to have a place,
That Virtues stain'd to hers, and my disgrace.
(2.)
In some dark mournfull Grave, or gloomy Cell,
The small remainder of my life I'll dwell;
Where every day, I'll pine away,
Her Vows are broke, my Memory's forgot,
'Tis time I stoop then to my cruel lot.
Adieu the Pleasures of the World, adieu,
Since she I lov'd I find, ah me, untrue.

The Parley: A Song.

(1.)
HOw happy, Phillis, were we free,
Might our Enjoyments prove;
But you with former Jealousie,
Are still tormenting Love.
(2.)
Let us, since Wit instructs us how,
Raise pleasure to the top;
If Rival bottle you allow,
I'll suffer Rival fop.
(3.)
There's not a brisk insipped Fop
That flutters in the Town,
But with you wanton Eyes you mark
The Coxcomb for your own.
(4.)
You never think it worth your care,
How empty, nor how dull
The Heads of your Adm [...]rers are,
So that their Purse be full.
(5.)
All this you freely may confess,
Yet we'll not disagree;
For did you love your Pleasure less,
You were not fit for me.
(6)
Whilst I my Passion to pursue,
Whole nights am taking in;
The lusty Juyce of Grapes take you,
You know well what I mean.

The Victory, or Beauties Conquest: A Song.

(1.)
TO this moment. a Rebel, I throw down my Arms.
Great love at first sight of Dorinda's bright charms,
Made proud and secure by such forces as these.
You may now play the Tyrant as long as you please.
(2.)
When innocent Beauty and Wit do conspire,
To betray, and ingage, and inflame my desire.
Why shou'd I decline what I cannot avoid,
And let pleasing hope by base fear be destroy'd.
(3.)
Her Innocence cannot contrive to undoe me;
Her Beauty's inclin'd, or why shou'd it pursue me.
And Wit has to Pleasure been ever a friend;
Then what room for despair, since delight is Love's end?
(4.)
There can be no danger in sweetness and youth,
Where Love is secur'd by good-nature and truth.
On her Beauty I'll gaze, and of Pleasure complain,
Whilst every kind look adds a link to my Chain.
(5.)
'Tis more to maintain, than it was to surprize,
But her Wit leads in triumph the slaves of her Eyes.
I beheld with the loss of my freedom before,
But hearing for ever, must serve and adore.
(6.)
Too bright is my Goddess, her Temple too weak;
Retire, divine Image, I feel my heart break.
Help, help, I dissolve in a Rapture of Charms,
At the thought of those Joys I shou'd find in her Arms.

The Shepherd's Delight: A new Song.

(1.)
HOw happy we live, while our Flocks we do feed,
And cheer up our hearts with the Musick o'th' Reed.
On the Mountains or Plains, in the Meads or the Grove,
We court, and we sport, and each kisses his Love.
Then Garlands of Flowers they make-for his Head,
That pleases 'em best, and the Table is spread.
On the Laps of the Nymphs, and with hourly good cheer,
We there sit contented, devoid of all fear.
(2.)
Whilst others that think themselves splendid and great,
Are toss'd and turmoil'd in the Matters of State:
No life than a Shepherds more happy can be,
Who lives in content, and from trouble is free;
Who makes not his Soul a dull slave unto treasure,
But sings in cool Shades, and by streams takes his plea­sure.
Before him the Lambs they do frisk, and do play,
Till home he do's drive 'em at closing of day.
(3.)
The Larks in the Morning salutes him with Songs,
And the rest of the Quire do's fly round him in throngs.
When steep'd in the Dew, that the Night do's refine,
He's more plump and jolly than Lads soak'd in Wine.
The Flow'rs of the Field, they contribute their sweet,
Spread trees are his Canopy, shelter from heat;
And purling soft Waters his Thirst do allay,
And thus he lives merry as long as the day.

The Night-Adventure: A new Song.

(1.)
WHen guilded with her gaudy fires,
Heav'ns Auzer Canopy appear'd,
Just when the Sun from us retires,
And by't the Indian World is cheer'd.
Walking abroad to scent the sweet,
That do s from Earth's great Altar rise,
In gentle breathings: I did meet,
More bright than Stars / two starry Eyes.
(2)
Plac d in a lower Heaven, yet shone
More tempting fair than those above;
Their influence more they made me own,
As fixed in the sphere of Love.
Amaz'd, and pleas'd at what I view'd,
I steer'd long by their beaming Light;
But, like false fires, they me delude,
Vanish, and left me loft in night.
(3)
Since which I nightly view the train,
That on their mystick Movements rowl;
Ariadne's Crown, and Charles's Wain,
And both the Bears plac'd near the Pole.
Bernice's hair, Andromache,
The Virgin Spike, and all the rest,
But cannot find where she shou'd be,
Who by her Influence rules my breast.

The Fickle Lover: A Song.

(1.)
ALL my past life is mine no more,
The flying hours are gone,
Like Transitory Dreams giv'n o'er,
Whose Images are kept in store,
By Memory alone.
(2.)
What-ever is to come, is not;
How can it then be mine?
The present Moment's all my lot,
And that as fast as it is got,
Phillis is wholly thine.
(3.)
Then talk not of Inconstancie,
False Hearts, and broken Vows;
If I by Miracle can be,
This live-long moment true to thee,
'Tis all that Fate allows.

The Good-fellow: A Song.

HAng up Mars and his Wars,
Give us drink;
Well Tipple, my Lads, together;
Those are slaves, fools and knaves,
That have Chink, and must pay,
For what they say,
Do or think,
Good-fellows account for neither.
Be we round, be we square,
We are happier than they are,
Whose Dignity works their Ruin;
He that well the Bowl rears,
Can baffle his cares,
And a fig for death and undoing.

The Amorous Courtier: A new Song.

WHy are my Eyes still flow—ing?
Why do's my Heart thus trembling move,
When go—ing,
To see the darling Saint I love?
Ah! she's my Heavn, and in my Eye
Love's Dei—ty:
There is no Life what she can give,
Nor any Death like taking my leave.
(2.)
Tell me no more of Glo—ry,
To Court's Ambition I've resign'd,
But tell a long, long Sto—ry,
Of Coelia s shape, her face and mind:
Speak too of Raptures, that wou'd Life destroy,
To en—joy.
Had I a Diadem, Scepter and Ball,
For that dear Minute I'd part with 'em all.

The Loyalist: A Song.

(1.)
HAppy, happy may he Reign,
That do s now the Scepter sway,
Our Liberties still to maintain,
And may his Subjects all obey.
Let each one strive to merit most,
In constant Loyalty and Love;
And may Division be devorc'd,
And we no more of it approve.
(2.)
That each secure beneath his Vine,
With Peace and Plenty may be blest,
And never cause have to repine,
But there supinely take his rest.
Calm as Summer's noon-tide Air,
May all our thoughts and actions be
Still free from foul distrust and fear,
Hence forward live in unitie.

The Daughters Request.

OH, Mother! Roger with his Kisses
Almost stops my breath, I vow;
He almost gripes my hands to pieces,
Yet he swears he loves me too:
Tell me, Mother, Pray now doo,
Pray now, pray now, pray now doo,
What Roger means when he do's so,
For ne'er stir I long to know.
(2.)
He sets me on his Lap whole hours,
With eager looks he me devours;
Kisses me, and stroaks my Breast,
Feels my Thighs, and would the rest:
Tell me, Mother, pray now doo,
Pray now, pray now, pray now doo,
What Roger means when be do's so,
For never stir I long to know.
(3.)
He gives me Cream and strawberries,
And always gazes on my Eyes;
Commends my handsome Leg and Foot,
And sighs for something I have got:
Tell me, Mother, pray now doo,
Pray now, pray now, pray now doo,
What Roger means when be do's so,
For ne'er stir I long to know.

Celia Restored to her Empire, or The Wan­dring Shepherd's Return: A new Song.

(1.)
CElia, no more complain,
The Shepherd shall be kind;
You shall not sigh in vain,
Nor grieve unto the Wind.
Love, mighty Love, subdues
Monarchs, makes Empires yield;
Conquers him that pursues,
Gives the pursu'd the field.
(2)
Rise then, fair Celia, rise,
See your Returned Swain;
Who at your Mercy lyes,
And begs you'd ease his pain.
A Rebel to your Charms
He never more will be,
But in your tender Arms,
Ravish'd with joy, will lye.
(3.)
Take, take then pity now
Upon your wand'ring slave,
Who at your feet do's bow,
And low your pardon crave.
Long he defiance holds
Against all Nature's Laws,
If his Heart ne'er new Moulds
At such a charming Cause.

The Conquest of Coyness: A Song.

(1.)
AS Cloris full of harmless thoughts,
Beneath the Myrtle lay,
Kind Love a youthfull Shepherd brought,
To pass the time away.
(2.)
She blush't to be encounter'd so,
And chid the Amorous Swain;
But as she Strove to rise and go,
He pull'd her down again.
(3.)
A sudden Passion seiz'd her Heart,
In spite of her disdain;
She found a Pulse in every part,
And Love in every vein.
(4.)
Ah Gods, said she, what Charms are these,
That conquer and surprize;
Ah, let me—for unless you please,
I have no pow'r to rise.
(5.)
She fainting spoke, and trembling lay,
For fear she shou'd comply;
Her lovely Eyes her Heart betray,
And give her Tongue the lye.
(6.)
Thus she whom Princes had deny'd,
With all their pomp and train,
Was in a luckey Minute try'd,
And yielded to a Swain.

The Down-right Courtier to his Coy Mistriss: A Song.

(1.)
PRay, Madam, leave this peevish fashion,
And ne'er desire to be high-priz'd;
Love, it is a Princely Passion,
And is angry when despis'd.
Though men say ye're fair, 'tis true,
We your Beauty yet bestow,
For our Fancy makes it so.
(2.)
Then bean't proud' cause we Adore you,
We do't only for our pleasure;
All those parts in which you glory,
We by fancy weigh and measure.
When for Goddesses you go,
For Angels or for Queens, pray know,
Tis our Fancies make you so.
(3.)
Suppose not then your Majestie,
By Tyrannies best signify'd;
And your Angellick Natures be,
Distinguish'd only by your Pride.
Tyrants make Subjects Rebels grow,
And Pride lost Angels down did throw,
Beware your Pride don't serve you so.

The Power and Force of Love: A Song.

(1.)
AS by a Grove I walking was,
A mighty Cause
Struck sadness to my Soul;
Unhappy me I said, Alas,
'Tis a hard case,
That I meet this controul.
I that of late was free of Air,
Must now despair,
And captive live in Chains;
Can Love, said I, so crafty be,
Who cannot see,
To fill the Mind with pains?
(2.)
Ah! he's a Tyrant, seeming weak,
And yet to break
His Chains we vainly strive;
The Fetters that he do's bequeath,
Are strong as Deah,
Men rarely them survive:
For ost the valiant, brave, and wise,
By Women's Eyes,
Are ruin'd. and undone;
No Armour is sufficient proof,
Nor hard enough,
Their killing Darts to shun.

The Comparison: A Song.

(1.)
HOw blest was the created state
Of Man and VVoman e'er they fell,
Compar'd to our unhappy state,
VVhat need we fear another Hell.
(2.)
Naked beneath cool shades they lay,
Enjoyment waited on desire;
All active did their wills obey,
Nor cou'd a wish set pleasure higher.
(3.)
But we, poor slaves, to hope and fear,
Are never of our Joys secure;
They lessen still as they draw near,
And none but dull delights endure.
(4.)
Then, Cloris, whilst I duly pay
The noble Tribute of my Heart;
Bean't you so vain to say,
You love me for a frailer part.

The Jovial Boys: A Song.

(1.)
COme fill us a Bumper to Bacchus,
Let us be free in our doing;
Let Sorrow and Grief ne'er o'er-take us,
Damn the fond trouble of VVooing:
VVhilst our Glasses are crown'd,
And Liquors abound,
VVe'll brave the fond Boy and his Arrows;
In drinking there is a pleasure,
[...] Love is a folly will [...] us,
Both wasting our [...] Treasure.
(2.)
Then round let it go [...],
Since Women such puny toys are;
[...]re charms in Wide that do's sparkle,
[...]han e'er in a Mistriss Eyes were:
Come then put 'em about,
VVe'll see 'em all out,
And when they are so, we'll recruit 'em;
Though VVomen we once did adore,
These Reasons they now shall confute 'em,
VVe will be such Asses no more.

The Indifferent Lover: A Song.

(1.)
WHilst on those lovely Eyes I gaze,
To see a wretch pursuing,
In Raptures of a blest amaze,
His pleasing happy Ruin.
'Tis not for pity that I move,
His Fate is too aspiring;
VVho heart-broke with a load of Love,
Dyes wishing and admiring.
(2.)
But if his Death you can forgo,
Your slave from Death removing;
Let me your Art of Charming know,
Or learn you mine of loving:
But whether life or death betide,
In love 'tis equal measure;
The victor lives with empty pride,
The vanquish'd dyes with pleasure.

The Bully: A Song.

ROom, room, for a Blade of the Town,
That takes delight in roaring;
VVho daily Rambles up and down,
And at Night in the streets lyes snoring.
That for the Noble name of Spark,
Dares his Companions rally;
Commits a Murther in the dark,
Then sneak into an Ally.
To every Female that he meets,
He swears he bears affection;
Defies all Laws, Arrests, and Suits,
By help of a Protection.
Then he intending further wrongs,
By some resenting Culley;
Is decently whipt through the Lungs,
And there's an end of Bulley.

The Amorous Lover's Advice to his Mistriss: A Song.

(1.)
LET Love, and let Beauty, each other embrace,
'Tis scorn and disdain spoils the charms of a Face.
That Breast which contains the blest warmth of desire,
Will rejoyce at the sense of so pleasing a fire;
Which to make Mortals happy, is sent from above;
'Tis a sin to be nice, but a pleasure to love.
(2.)
How happy are those who by Nature enjoy
The innocent sport, for which others seem coy;
They'll receive mighty Love at the Eye with a smile,
And sweetly permit him the Heart to beguile.
O! then with a sigh, how they hug the soft Chain,
And wish that it ne'er may forsake 'em again.

The Lover's Excuse: A Song.

(1.)
THyrsis, unjustly you complain,
And tax my tender Heart
With want of pity for your pain,
Or sense of your desert.
(2.)
By secret and mysterious springs,
Alas, our Passions move;
We Women are phantastick things,
That like before we love.
(3.)
You may be handsome, and have wit,
Be secret, and well-bred;
The person loved must to us fit,
He only can succeed.
(4.)
Some dye, yet never are believ'd;
Others we trust too soon,
Helping our selves to be deceiv'd,
And proud to be undone.

The Constant Lover's Complaint: A Song.

(1.)
I Cannot change as others doe,
Though you unjustly scorn;
Since the poor Swain, that sighs for you,
For you alone was born.
No, Phillis, no, your Heart to move,
A surer way I'll try;
And to revenge my slighted Love,
Will still love on, will still love on, and dye.
(2.)
When kill'd with grief, Amintas lyes,
And you to mind shall call;
The Sighs that now unpity'd rise,
The Tears that vainly fall.
That welcome hour that ends his smart,
Will then begin your pain;
For such a faithfull tender Heart
Can never break in vain.

The bouncing Bully: A new Song.

(1.)
WHen first I made love to my Cloris,
Cannon Oaths I brought down,
To batter the Town,
And I fill'd her with Amorous stories.
(2.)
Billet Doux, like small shot, d'ye ply her,
And sometimes a Song,
Went whizzing along,
But still I was never the nigher.
(3.)
At last she sent word by a Trumpet,
If I lik'd that life,
She wou'd be my wife,
But never be any Mans Strumpet.
(4.)
I told her Mars wou'd not Marry,
And swore by my scars,
Single combats and wars,
I'd sooner dig stones in a Quarry.

Content is True Happiness: A Song.

(1.)
COme leave your care, and love your friend,
Live freely, don't despair;
Of getting Money there's no end,
And keeping it breeds care.
[...] you have Money at your need,
[...] Good-fellows, and good Wine;
[...] life whose joys on Wealth do seed,
Is dull compar'd with thine.
(2.)
I can enjoy my self and friends,
VVithout design or fear;
Below their Envy or base ends,
That Polititians are.
I neither toil, nor care, nor grieve,
To gather, keep, or loose;
VVith freedom and content I live,
And what's my own I use.
(3.)
VVhilst Men blown up with strong desires,
Of Riches or Renown;
Though ne'er so high, wou'd still be higher,
So tumble head-long down.
For Princes smiles turn oft to frowns,
And favours fade each hour;
He that to day heaps Towns on towns,
To morrow may be poor.
(4.)
All that we get, by all our store,
'S Honour or Dominion;
The one's but Trouble varnish'd o'er,
the t'other but Opinion.
Fate rules the roast, Times always change,
'Tis Fancy builds all things;
How madly then our Minds do range,
Since all we grasp hath wings.
(5.)
Those empty terms of Rich and Poor,
Comparison hath fram'd;
He hath not much, that covets more,
Want is but VVill nick-nam'd.
If I can safely think, and live,
And freely laugh and sing;
My Wealth I'll not for Craesus give,
Nor change for any thing.

The Downfall of Plain-Dealing: A Song.

(1.)
LOng time Plain-dealing in the haughty Town,
Wand'ring about, though in a thread-bare Gown,
At last unanimously was cry'd down.
(2.)
VVhen almost starved, she to the Country fled,
In hopes, though meanly, she should there be fed,
And tumble nightly on a Pease-straw bed.
(3.)
But knavery knowing her intent, took post,
And rumour'd her approach through e'ry coast,
Vowing his ruin, that shou'd be her Host.
(4.)
Frighted at this, each Rustick shut his dore,
Bid her begone, and trouble him no more,
For he that entertain'd her must be poor.
(5.)
At this grief seiz'd, her grief too great to tell,
And weeping, sighing, fainting, down she fell,
VVhilst knavery, laughing, rung her Passing-bell.
(6.)
And though some simple people search in vain,
In hopes, by this time, she's reviv'd again,
They have their labour only for their pain.

The Hero: A new Song.

(1.)
THE Courts of fond Cupid I ever did scorn,
Nor cou'd Venus's softness invite me;
The Charms and Perfections that beauties adorn,
Ne'er yet had power to delight me.
The sound o the Trumpet, the ratling Drum,
And the noise of the Cannon, where flaming,
On spread wings of fire Death in triumph do's come,
In Thunder his Terror proclaiming.
(2.)
Where drawn Swords, like Comets, enlighten the Plain,
And the Musick's the Groans of the dying;
The Ramparts are only the heaps of the slain,
And nothing ignoble but flying.
To the field (my kind Mistriss) like this I will hast,
VVhere same, ho [...]our, glory, are waiting;
VVhilst love from my Arms with disdain I will cast,
As not worthy a Souldier's debating.

Mariana's Complaint: A new Song.

(1.)
COnsider, Maidens, that are young,
And yet are blooming in your prime,
Least Man's soft charming Tongue
Steal your weak Hearts by stealing Time.
For whilst you think you moments spend,
That harmlesly away do slide;
Love do's a strong contagion send,
VVhich, sensless, through your Heart do's glide.
(2.)
VVhilst e'ry part within conspires,
To entertain the subtil foe;
VVhich by degrees breeds strange desires,
Till it your peace quite over-throw.
And your dear freedom lay in chains,
Make you a Captive to false man;
VVho when ye're setter'd, slights your pains,
And grows more proud that ye're undone.
(3.)
Then fly, then fly when they draw near,
Believe not what they smoothly say;
For though they vow, protest and swear,
Yet in that breath they'll you betray.
'Tis at your Honour that they aim;
And when they once have gain'd the prize,
No more they burn, no more they flame,
No more the false dissembler dyes.
(4.)
But make ill-natur'd Jests, and leave
The too fond Maid they work'd upon,
Gentle and easie to deceive,
They count her when she is undone.
Alas, by me example take,
The dear-lov'd Man I did adore,
My ruin'd honour do's forsake,
For getting all the Love he swore.

The Maiden's Grief: A new Song.

(1.)
A Curse upon the faithless Maid,
Who first her Sexes Liberty betray'd;
Born free as Men to love and range,
Till nobler Nature did to Custom change.
Custom, that dull excuse of fools,
Who think all Virtue to consist in Rules.
(2.)
From love our fetters never sprung,
That smiling God all wanton gay and young:
[...]hows by his wings, he cannot be
[...]onfin'd to restless slaverie;
[...]ut here and there at random roves,
Nor fix'd to glitt'ring Courts or shady Groves.
(3.)
Then she that Constancy profess,
Was but a well dissembler at the best;
And that imaginary sway,
She feign'd to give in, seeming to obey,
Was but the hight of prudent Art,
To deal with greater liberty her heart.

The Torment of Disdain: A Song.

(1.)
WHen first these Eyes of mine saw my undoer,
Oh! how my Soul was inflam'd with desire!
But now I hate the time that e'er I knew her,
Seeing her Cruelty adds to my fire.
The more I love, the more she disdains,
And daily do's add new Links to my Chains;
Which makes me day and night to cry,
Woe is me, woe is me, for love I dye.
(2.)
I still address my self in humble manner,
Thinking by that to gain some respect;
But she most cruel she takes more upon her,
And still return'd it with scorn and neglect;
Which plung'd my soul into such deep dispair,
Too great, alas, for Mortal minds to bear;
I'd rather soon to loose my breath,
Then to continue still this living death.
(3.)
Farewell cruel she, this Curse I'll leave with thee;
May'st thou love one, but ne'er beloved be;
And when thou doat'st on him, may he deceive then
And be as cruel as thou waft to me.

The Invitation to Love: A Song.

(1.)
PRitty Peggy, grant to me
One sweet kiss to prove me;
If I stick not close to thee,
As the VVoodbine to the tree,
Mayest thou never love me.
(2.)
Passion is a simple thing,
That will ne'er content ye;
It will never pleasure bring,
But will leave behind a sting,
That will still torment ye.
(3.)
Love that brisk and airy is,
Brings a Lady pleasure;
But if dull, our blood will freeze,
VVhich will make you by degrees,
To repent at leasure.
(4.)
Heighten'd Love do's still beget
Torment to the Master;
For Jealousie is such a cheat,
No Physitian e'er cou'd yet
Find for it a Plaister.
(5.)
Anger still do's stir up Love,
And encrease the fancy;
If't be moderate you'll prove,
Tis the only sphere to move
In for to advance you.

To Flora: A Song.

(1.)
JOy to the Darling of loud Fame,
Whose early Beauty's in their bloom;
Nature's Riches do proclaim,
And find in all our hearts a Room.
(2.)
If so in Infancy you wound,
If such sharp-pointed Darts you wear;
Your Beauty, when by years 'tis crown'd,
Must needs the wonder of the World appear.
(3.)
See how the Stars shine in the Skies,
Seeding the Firmament with Light;
So shine in Beauty's World your Eyes,
Though they keep off the Shades of night.
(4.)
The feeble Stars suffer the shade,
The lower World to over-run;
But where your Eyes the Lights are made,
They keep off Darkness like the Sun.

Against Drunkenness: A new Song.

(1.)
ALL you that in Tipling take delight,
Come unto my Ditty give ear;
All you that do Revel and Roar in the night,
And put sober people in fear.
(2.)
First you your Money in Vanity spend,
Which if you did husband it well;
In time of distress wou'd be a sure friend,
And all those that flatter excell.
(3.)
The next you your healths and your wi [...] do confound,
And are by strange Witchcraft possess;
For he whose senses in Liquor are drown'd,
He changes the Man to the beast.
(4.)
The Drunkard in quarrels do's likewise ingage,
By which comes much trouble and harm;
And renders himself the fool on the Stage,
Whilst Coxcombs shall laugh him to scorn.
(5.)
If Marry'd he be, and Drunk do's rowl home,
Then there is another plague yet;
So feebly he works in his Wives private Room,
That nothing but Girls he can get.
(6.)
Which now as times go, will never rub off,
Unless he can Portions provide;
But how can he doe it that daily do's Quaff,
And pours his Estate in his Hide.
(7.)
More mischief remains, for when all is done,
And he offers to go on the score;
His Host he don't know him, but bids him begone,
Like a beggarly Son of a Who—.
(8.)
Then he with Duke Humphery must look for a Cup,
And pinch and repine when too late;
Tell trees for his Dinner, and sup with a Chop,
And this is the Drunkards just fate.

The Forsaken Mistriss: A Song.

(1.)
WIth praise of my beauty and sighs he did woo me,
And hasly a while for my Love did pursue;
But proud of my conquest, and proud of my Game,
I slighted his Courtship, and laugh'd at his Flame.
Yet now I repent that I answer'd him no,
Since from a kind Lover he's turn'd to a foe.
But he's a m [...]er Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,
When a Woman says no, will take it in jest.
(2.)
My Eyes then were Stars, and my Cheeks he call'd Roses,
But now they're debas'd, and my Nose but my Nose is.
He prais'd e'ry part, and extoll'd 'em above
Fair Helena's, or the bright Goddess of Love.
But a shame of him now, for a subtil false Knave,
Denial has freed him that late was my slave.
Yet be's a meer Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,
When a Woman says no, will not take it in jest.
(3.)
Yet Lasses be wise, when the Lad wou'd be kind,
And let him all freedom and courtesie find;
For troth the next Youngster I take in my gin,
Shall find me more yielding than yet I have been.
I'll give him no time for to gaze on new faces,
But look him up close in my kindest embraces.
Yet be's a meer Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,
When a Woman says no, will not take it in jest.
(4)
Ill hug him securely with Joy in my Arms,
And heighten his pleasure by force of my Charm [...]
[...] [...]arth's flow'ry beds we imbracing will lye,
[...] there in soft Murmurs full often we'll dye;
But dye to new live, when reviv'd by the flame,
That kindl'd our Passion, and so dye again.
Yet be's a meer Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,
When a Woman says no, will not take it in jest.

The Misse's Confession: A Song.

(1.)
I Wench as well as others doe,
I'm young, not yet deform'd,
My tender heart sincere and true,
Deserves not to be scorn'd.
Why, Phyllis then, why will you trade
With forty Lovers more?
Can I, said she, with Nature strive?
Alas I am, alas I am a Wh—.
(2.)
Where all my body Larded o'er
With Nature's Amorous Probes,
That you might find in every pore
A pole and pair of Globes.
Whilst yet my Eyes alone were free,
My heart would never doubt.
In Amorous rage and exstasie,
To wish those Eyes put out.

The Parting Farewell: A Song.

(1.)
TIS not that I am weary grown,
Of being yours, and yours along.
[...]ut with what face can I incline,
[...]o keep you to be only mine.
You whom some kinder power did fashion,
by Merit, and by Inclination,
The joy at least of one whole Nation.
(2.)
Let meaner spirits of your Sex,
With humbler aims their thoughts perplex;
And boast, if by their Arts they can,
Contrive to make one happy Man.
Whilst moved by an impartial sence,
Favours, like nature, you dispence,
With universal influence.
(3.)
See the kind Seed receiving Earth,
To every grain affords a birth.
On her no showers unwelcome fall,
her willing womb retains 'em all.
And shall my Celia be confin'd?
No, live up to thy mighty mind,
And be the Mistriss of Mankind.

The Jolly Fellow's good Wish: A Song.

(1.)
VƲlcan, contrive me such a Cup,
As Nestor us'd of old;
Shew all thy skill to trim it up,
Damask it round with Gold.
(2.)
Make it so large, that fill'd with Sack,
Up to the swelling brim;
Large Toasts on the delicious Lake,
Like Ships at Sea may swim.
(3)
Engrave not battles on its Cheek,
With Wars l'ave nought to doe;
I'm none of those that took Mastreich,
Nor of the Lime-Rout crew.
(4)
Let it no name of Planets tell,
Fix'd Stars or Constellations;
For I am no Sir Sydraphel,
Nor none of his Relations.
(5.)
But carve thereon a spreading Vine,
Then add two lovely Boys;
Their limbs in Amorous folds intwine,
The Type of future Joys.
(6.)
Cupid and Bacchus my Saints are,
May Love and Wine still reign;
With Wine I wash away my care,
And then to love again.

The Lover's Complaint to his Scornfull Mistriss: A new Song.

(1.)
AH, Cloris, Pity or I dye,
The wound admits no cure;
All Arts to ease my pain I try,
And find all Arts but poor.
You in your power the Cordial have
Alone that gives relief;
Ah Cloris, lovely Cloris save,
Or else I dye with grief.
(2.)
Your Eyes shoot lightning through my heart,
Your frowns raise in my breast
A dismal storm, arm'd with a Dart,
Your scorn murthers my rest.
I pine and sigh, alas, in vain,
A feavour burns within;
Without I struggle with disdain,
But can no favour win.
(3.)
Yet cannot change as others doe,
Though you unjustly scorn,
Since the poor Swain that sighs for you,
For you alone was born.
No Cloris, no, your heart to move,
A surer way I'll try;
And to revenge my slighted love,
Will still love on and dye.
(4)
When kill with grief Amintas lyes,
And you to mind shall call;
The Sighs that now unpity'd rise,
The Tears that vainly fall.
That welcome hour that ends his smart,
Will then begin your pain;
For such a faithfull tender heart,
Can never break in vain.

The Debate: A Song.

(1.)
GIve me leave to Rail at you,
I ask nothing but my due;
To call you false, and then to say,
You shall not keep my heart a day.
But, alas, against my will,
I must be your Captive still.
Ah, be kinder then, for I
Cannot change, and wou'd not dye.
(2.)
Kindness has resistless charms,
All besides but weakly move;
Fiercest anger it disarms,
And clips the wings of flying Love.
Beauty do's the heart invade,
Kindness only can perswade;
It guilds the Lovers servile chain,
And makes the slave grow pleas'd again.

The Reply: A Song.

(1.)
NOthing adds to your fond fire,
More than scorn and cold disdain;
I to cherish your desire,
Kindness us'd, and 'twas in vain.
You insulted o'er your slave,
Humble love you soon refus'd;
Hope not then a power to have,
Where ingloriously you us'd.
(2.)
Think not, Thyrsis, I will e'er
By my Love my Empire loose;
You grow constant through despair,
Love return'd you wou'd abuse.
Though you still possess my heart,
Scorn and rigour I must feign;
Ah, forgive that only Art,
Love has left your Love to gain.
(3.)
You that could my Heart subdue,
To new Conquests ne'er pretend;
let your Example make you true,
And of a conquer'd foe a friend.
Then if e'er I should complain
Of your Empire, or my Chain;
Summon all your powerfull Charms,
And sell the Rebel in your Arms.

Upon MONEY: A Song.

(1.)
IT is not the Silver and Gold of it self,
That makes Men adore it, but 'tis for its power;
For no Man do's doat upon Pelf, because Pelf,
But all court the Lady in hopes of her Dower.
The Wonders that now in our days we behold,
Done by the irresistible power of Gold,
Our love, and our zeal and affection do mould.
(2.)
It purchaseth Kingdoms, States, Scepters and Crowns,
Wins Battels, and conquers the Conquerors bold;
Takes Bulwarks and Castles, and Armies and Towns,
Our prime Laws were written in Letters of Gold.
This lines Mens Religion, builds Doctrine and Truth,
With zeal of Profession the Canter endu'th,
To club with kind Sarah, or sweet Sister Ruth.
(3.)
This Marriages makes, 'tis the center of Love,
It draws on the Man, and it pricks up the Woman;
Birth, Virtue and Parts no affection can move,
While this makes Lords bow to the Brat of a Broom
Gives Virtue and Beauty to the Lass that you woo,
Makes Women of all sorts and ages to do,
'Tis the soul of the World, and the worldling too.
(4.)
This Horses procures you, and Hawks, Hounds & Hares,
'Tis this keeps your Groom, and your Groom keeps your Gelding;
It buys Citizens Wives as well as their Wares,
And makes your coy Ladies so coming and yielding.
Give boisterous Clowns their insufferable pride,
Makes Beggars and Fools in great triumph to ride,
Whilst ruin'd Properties run by their side.

The Slighted Lover: A new Song.

(1.)
AH! why do's my Aminta fly
From him who lives but by her smiles,
If she her kindness do's deny,
And thus in scorn from me recoils.
The sadness that her Absence breeds,
Will soon grow up to gloomy death;
A long, long night, alas, succeeds,
When for her sake I yield my breath.
(2.)
But if she kindly will return,
Her presence will keep death away;
O! rather let me feel her scorn,
Than from my sight she thus should stray.
It will a pleasure prove in pain,
To gaze upon the lovely Fair;
Last, Salamander like, on Flame,
Or, like Chamelions, only live on Air.

She wou'd seem Angry: A Song.

(1.)
WHat cruel pains Corinda takes,
To force that harmless frown;
When not a Charm her Face forsakes,
Love cannot loose its own.
So sweet a Face, so soft a Heart,
Such Eyes so very kind,
Betrays, alas, the filly Art
Virtue had ill design'd.
(2.)
Poor feeble Tyrant, who, in vain,
Wou'd proudly take upon her,
Against kind nature to maintain,
Affected Rules of Honour.
The scorn she bears so helpless proves,
VVhen I plead Passion to her;
That much she fears, yet more she loves,
Her Vassal should undoe her.

The Recovery of Love: A Song.

(1.)
HOW unconcern'd Love now decreases,
Behold that Face of thine;
The Graces and the Dresses,
Which both conspire to make thee shine,
And make me think thou art Divine.
And yet methinks thou'rt wonderous fair,
But I have no desires;
Those Glories in thy Face that are,
Kindled not in my Heart those fires,
For they remain, though that expires.
(2.)
Nor was't my Eyes that had such power
To burn my self, and you;
For then they'd every thing devour,
But I do several others view,
Unsing'd, and so don't think it true.
Nay, both together cou'd not do't,
Else we had dyed e'er this,
Without some higher power to boot,
Which must rule both if either miss,
Altogether to no purpose is.
(3.)
It pusses my Philosophy,
To find wherein consists,
This power of Love and Tyrany,
Or in a Lover's Eye or Breast;
Be't where it will, there let it rest.
However, that I once did love,
I boldly do profess;
But henceforth to my self will prove
More wise in loving less,
And grow more strong as it do's more decrease.

On Fading Beauty: A Song.

(1.)
CElia be gentle, I advise,
Make up for time mispent;
When Beauty on its death-bed lyes,
'Tis high time to repent.
Such is the Malice of your Fate,
That makes you old so soon;
Your pleasure ever comes too late,
How early e'er begun.
(2)
Think what a wretched thing is she,
Whose Stars contrive in spite,
The Morning of her Love should be,
Her fading beauties night.
Then if to make your Ruin more,
You'll peevishly be coy,
By wishing yet in Love be poor,
And never know the joy.
(3.)
May Transports that can give new fire,
To stay the flying Soul.
Ne'er answer you in your desire,
But make you yet more dull.
May Raptures that can move each part,
To tast the Joys above.
In all their hight improv'd by Art,
Still fly you when you love.

Advice to his Fair Mistriss: A Song.

(1.)
LOvely Mistriss, whilst you do enjoy,
Youth and Beauty be you sure to use 'em;
And be not fickle, be not coy,
Thy self or Lovers to destroy.
Since all those Lillies, and those Roses,
That Lovers find, or Love supposes,
To flourish in thy face,
Will tarry but a little space:
And youth and beauty are but only lent
To you by nature, with this kind intent,
You should enjoy, but not abuse 'em;
And when enjoyments may be had, not fondly to ref [...] [...]
(2.)
Let Lovers flatt'ry ne'er prevail with thee,
Nor their complacient tongues that don't agree,
With their Vows and Protestations be,
As snares for to deceive thee;
Let the high praises of the wittie,
Though ne'er so costly, never fit ye;
Unless the truth in all their words you find,
For Lovers see, though Love is blind.
Sickness or Age will quickly strip away
Those fading Glories of your youthfull May,
And of your Graces all berieve ye,
Then those that did adore before will slight thee, and so leave thee.
(3.)
Then while ye're fair and young, be kind, but wise;
Doat not, nor proudly use denying:
That tempting toy thy beauty lyes,
Not in thy face, but Lover's Eyes;
And he that doats on thee, may smother
His love i'th' beauties of another;
Or flying at all Game,
May quench, or else divert his flame.
His Reason too may chance to interpose,
And Love declines as fast as Reason grows;
And so you may repent at leasure,
Too young, too old, too nice, too free, too-slow destroys your pleasure.

A new Song, in two Parts; or, The True Lover's Joy.

Cloris.
WHy, Damon, do you stay from my kind Arms?
Why thus delay the hight of all my Charms?
[...]as it for this I hasted to the Shade,
[...]nd to escape such large excuses made?
Trod pathless ways to 'scape those prying Eyes,
That would have sent their beams into our joys:
That would have reach'd the secrets of our love;
Then, prithee Damon, haste unto the Grove.
Damon.
I come, my Cloris, all over desire,
Arm'd by great Love, with all his potent fire.
The mighty Feaver kindly begs your cure;
A seaver, though allay'd, will yet endure.
Then, fair Physitian, see your Patient stand,
To be dispos'd of by your gentle hand.
Yet if you do at this time ease my pain,
It is so sweet, I shall wish it again.

The Mourning Lover for his Departed Mistriss: A new Song.

(1.)
SHe's gone! ah me, my Joy is fled;
Alas, she's mingl'd with the dead.
Those Eyes are set in Shades of Night,
From which so late the World had light.
The blooming Roses that her Face,
With Angel-beauty late did grace,
Are ravish'd by the tyrant death,
Whose pale cold hand has seiz'd her breath.
(2.)
And can I, my dear Saint, survive?
Can I without my Angel live?
Ah, no! ah, no! it cannot be;
To Heaven she's gone, and chides at me.
For lingring thus, thinks me unkind;
O! then, ye Fates; O! let me find
A passage to her dear-lov'd Arms,
There to Revel in Immortal Charms.

THE SECOND PART, CONTAINING The whole Art and Mystery of COURTSHIP: With Infallible Rules to succeed therein.

Adorned with Eloquence, and furnished with Cordial Advice.

MEN and Women were made for the Society of each other: and this Society becomes the more delectable when Beauty assists our Desire. For as it is natural for Men and Women to desire, so is it as natural for them to de­sire what is most pleasing, which is Beauty.

Beauty then consists in the Lineaments and Perfecti­ons of the Body, and the actions and demeanour of that beautifull Body. For there are some who have Beauty, but no beautifull deportment. Others who have something, I cannot tell what that pleases, who cannot for all that be call'd beautifull. There are also some Beauties more proper for the Ad­dresses of Love and Courtship; and of those I will give you a description, first in reference to Women.

For the Subject of Love and Address, he that would chuse aright, must chuse a young Lass of Eightee? years of age, moderately plump, strait and tall, the air of her Countenance lofty and majestick, her Head well set on, her Eyes sweet and laughing, of a black colour, her Mouth of a moderate wideness, her Teeth white, her Forehead enclining rather to be small than large, but insensibly arched; her Cheeks full, her Hair black, the compass of her Visage round, at the same time let her Shoulders be large and fleshie; her Breasts hard, well divided, and su [...]taining them­selves; her Arms thick and plump; her Skin neither too white nor too brown, but of a mixture between both. As to her Conditions, let her be decently and fashionably habited, modest and gay in her actions, not over-talkative, yet witty in her discourse. When she appears naked, let her have a full, round Belly, little Feet, and turning outward, a Leg somewhat plum in the middle, Knees short and small, a well­rais'd Thigh, well furnished with hard and round But­tocks, a small Waft.

As for the Beauty of a Man, it consists chiefly in his shape and proportion, and in the strength of his body; however, let him be fashionable, as well in his habit as behaviour; let him be rather lean than fat, his Hair long and curling upon his shoulders, his Neck short and free, with a Breast velveted with short hair; his Shoulders, Reinsand Buttocks large and brawnie.

These are the exactnesses of Perfection required in both Sexes, but because all persons are not both to be accomplished, therefore as well Men as Women must be content with their fortune: However, when a Man first goes about to court a Mistriss, let her be such a one, as to his fancy may seem to excell all o­ther Women. She must be the Only person agree­able and pleasing to her Lover, or else his Courtship will be only dis [...]mulation.

Being thus fix'd upon his choice, the Wooer is next [...]o observe the Disposition of his Mistriss, that he may [...]he better be able to frame himself to please her hu­mour; wherein great care must be taken as to two [...]hings, Complyance and Double-diligence. Complyance [...]equires a most dutifull respect and obedience to her Will. Whatever she says or commands, there must [...] no contradiction. If she will have red to be green, [...] let it be; if she will have blew to be black, it must [...] so. However, he must not be a faint-hearted Woer neither—Let him have a good opinion of [...]imself, and believe their is no Virgin in the World that can get the force of his Courtship; and that he [...]as no more to doe but to spread his Net, and the bird will be taken: For you may as soon believe that the Birds will leave chattering in the Spring, or that Grashoppers will cease to sing in Summer, as that a [...]rightly Virgin will refuse the Courtship of a hand­lime person, and a smooth tongue; for stol'n Sweets [...] as gratefull to VVomen as to Men at all times: [...]ly it is convenient that the Men should ask the Que­stion first, VVomen being suppos'd to be the more [...]odest. Observe, that the first Visits are con­ [...]m'd in the mute language of the Eye, and the dis­ [...]urses only of sighs and amorous glances, which are [...]ot so insignificant, but that the age of fourteen un­ [...]erstands the meaning of them to a Miracle; and the [...]an shall soon find that he is understood by the [...]shes in his Mistresses Cheeks, when he casts his Eye [...]pon her. For there is no Beauty without a flame, [...]or any flame without a fire; and, as the Song says,

If Modesty it self appear
With Blushes in her Face,
The Blood that dances there
Must revel in some other place.

[Page 172]But let a Man be as confident of his Parts as he plea­ses, 'tis good to have an Interest in his Mistresses Chamber, and an Instrument near her Elbow; to which end no person so fit as the Maid that combs her Hair in a Morning, to speak in his praise, and to take all opportunities to tell her Mistress the greatness of his affection, and to win the young Virgin to have pity upon her Lovers languishing condition.

He that courts a young Widow, may doe well to enquire out his Mistresses Confident, and besure to make fair weather with her; 'tis a never-failing way; for such carry a great stroak in Love affairs, whe­ther it be for the better, or for the worse.

These are outward helps, but as to personal ad­vantages, there is a greater secret that lyes in the proper management of words and protestations; of which a Woer ought never to be sparing, for they cost him little; and so that there is no person in the World but may be as rich as he pleases in Promises. How­ever, besure not to go beyond the limits of Pe [...]for­mance, for extravagant Vows and Promises soon be­tray the falseness of a Man's intentions, and that he never intends to be as good as his word. But as for future obedience and subjection, rule and command, and a hundred of those gayeties, as impossibility of [...] ­ving without her, or of ever being happy; if she prove cruel and remorsless, these things not only please, but move compassion.

Neither let a Woer be niggardly of his Commenda­tions. Extoll the Lineaments of her Face, commend the colour and softness of her Hair, her round Fingers and her little Feet. Nothing can be more gratefull then to commend in Women what they are so proud of, and so carefull to preserve. Nor will a few mo­dest Protestations be amiss to confirm what you say [Page 173]especially if she seem incredulous; for some there are that will hardly be induced to believe their Lover, al­though he spoke never so true without them; nor must a Woer omit to intermix now and then with a kiss or two, by such surprizes as he shall find most convenient to his opportunities, in the midst of his Amorous dis­course. Perhaps she will resist at first, and give a Man a sharp reproof. But that resistance is only to shew that she desires not to be overcome without re­sistance. However, let the Man be carefull of being rude or boysterous, or of giving his Mistriss occasion of complaining that his Kisses are hard, and unseason­ably stol'n from her. She that admits of kissing, and will not take the rest, deserves to loose what she has already receiv'd. After free admission to a Ladies lips, the Lady that refuses to satisfie her Servants law­full desires, shews more of Clownery than Modesty. For though it may be cal [...]'d a kind of Force to kiss without leave, yet it is a sort of Violence not unplea­sing to young Ladies.

The next part of Courtship of Officiousness and Double-diligence. As for example, if a young Woer see the least speck of dirt of lint upon his Mistrisses Garment, let him be sure to brush it off; if there be none, yet let him brush off nothing to keep himself in employment. If her Fan or her Glove fall by accident, let him be in an instant ready to take them up. Slight services many times create a deep affection. The very reaching of a Chair, or laying a Cushion seasonably and opportunely, are many times civilities never for­gotten. And he, that by such little pieces of servi­ [...]de as these, has a prospect of enjoying his wishes, were a fool to stand upon his punctilio's.

In making of Presents, he is unwise who is lavish; however, a Man must take care that his Presents be proper. In the Spring Posies and Flowers; in the [Page 174]latter end of the year the choicest Fruits; and let him be sure to say they were far-fetch'd and dear-bought, and that they grew in such a Garden, though he pur­chased them in the next Market. There are also many other Toys of little value which insinuate accep­tance, and make way for the Presenter, of which he shall never have any reason to repent the bestowing, should he in the end loose his aim.

If at any time he hears of his Mistriss being indispo­sed, let him be sure to give diligent attendance upon her, be with her as early and as late as decency will permit; and let him be sure to doe her all those ser­vices which she will accept at his hands; such te [...] ­monies of affection lay an obligation, and few young Ladies would be accounted guilty of ingratitude There have been some Lovers that would never leave their Mistresses, when they have lain sick of the Small Pox, but have still taken all occasions to attend a [...] divertise them; and, which is more, then at the same time when their Mistresses Beauty seemed almost quite defaced, have made the same Vows and Protestation of their deep affection, as in the time of their mo [...] ­flourishing health.

In sending of Letters, whether it be to retur [...] thanks, express affection, and give under your han [...] the Testimonies of your Love, or to make Complaint a Woer must be sure to be plain and easie; High [...] flown Expressions, and Cramp-words, are not for L [...] ­dies; but let them be such as he would give if he we [...] present himself, smooth and flattering. If she sho [...] chance to refuse to receive it, and send it back aga [...] let him hope however that she will read one at leng [...] and never leave sending till he has vanquish'd t [...] piece of Female-obstinacy. His perseverance will [...] vercome Penelope his self; for Troy was taken, thoug [...] it were long first. The same method is to be oble­ved, [Page 175]though she send him bad tidings at first, and de­sire him hot to solicit her any more in that kind. For she is afraid of being taken at her word, and wishes that may come to pass, which she forbids.

These are the General Rules to be observed in Courtship: But now, because no Courtship can be made without Words, we shall set down some forms upon many occasions; not that the same forms of words are to be always observed, but to be varied as fancy moves, which always guides a true Lover, and makes him Eloquent.

Addresses and Replies proper in Courtship, &c. to Court a Young Gentlewoman.

The Address.

FAir Lady, attracted as well by your Virtues as your Beauty, I come to offer you my service at the shrine of your perfection, desiring you to excuse my boldness, as being compell'd by Love, whose ir­resistible Power no mortal is able to withstand.

The Answer.

Sir, for you Rhetorical Expression I should give [...]on commendations; but where Complements are strained so high, the Tongue is seldom the true Inter­preter of the Heart. Therefore if you would have me to think any Reality in your Speech, leave your Complements; for Truth requires not Art to co­ver it.

The Address.

Madam, I desire to be rightly understood. Then [...]e me leave to say it is your bright beauty that as enthrall'd my affection; those fair eyes of yours [Page 176]have wounded my Heart, which nothing but the Bal­som of your Love can make whole again.

The Answer.

Oh! Sir, you must pardon me, if I think you flatter: I cannot think my Beauty has such force to work such great effects within your heart.

The Reply.

Say not so, dear Madam, for if you felt the force of Love's Dart as I doe, and as I wish you did, you would say that nothing can affect a Soul, like the pain which I endure for your sake. Pity then my condi­tion, and consider with your self that your fair Eyes have too much brightness in them to serve for baits or allurements of a dissembling Lover.

The Answer.

Sir, you must pardon me if I doubt of the sincerity of your affection till farther tryal; I shall therefore suspend my Answer, till Time shall make known your reality. In the mean time live in hope; yet know, that I shall never cherish any Love but what has Ver­tue at the end on't.

The Reply.

Fair Madam, I return you Thanks, and may the Heavens so far prosper my suit, as Vertue and Honour are the sole ends that I propose.

Another way. The Address.

Fair Maid, I know not which way to open to you the secrets of my breast; my tongue falters in its discourse, as not being used to these attempts. But this however I must acknowledge, that you are the Only She on whom my affections are placed: You are the only Saint whom I adore; the end and aim of all my desires and hopes.

The Answer.

You speak too high language for me, Sir; and [...] unworthiness checks me to think I deserve it. B [...] [Page 177]you Men love to flatter, and with smooth words to delude young Maids, and then laugh at their conde­scending folly.

The Reply.

If my Tongue and Heart doe not agree, may the one be strick'n dumb, and the other punish'd with dis­dain where it most affects. No, all that is mine is no less yours, then are my own thoughts and words. Nor can I ever doe so much for you, but that the affection wherewith I adore you, and the constancy I shall observe in your service will prove, as you shall find, far greater.

The Answer.

Love, I am told, laughs at Perjuries; and Men be­lieve Womens hearts to be made of wax, fit to receive any impression that a smooth tale puts upon them. But I am not so young to believe all they say; not so unwise by a few flattering words to enter Love's Laby­rinth, wherein so many before me have lost their way.

The Reply.

Fair Maid, be not so cruel to him that so dearly af­fects you. Narcissus disdaining others, was at last pu­nish'd with the love of himself. Beauty is but a blossom, and therefore fading. Time forces Youth to give place to Age. And most commonly those who dis­dain others when young, live till they loose the hopes of opportunity.

The Answer.

Could I assure my self your love were real, Opini­on might alter, and Fancy might fix, where now it distrusts. I might say that I were yours, were I sure that you were really mine. Yet this know, that if I find you faithfull, you may expect a better answer at your return.

The Answer.

In confidence of that happiness, I shall not fail to give you several Visits, and every time new Testimo­nies of the Reality of my affections.

To Wooe a Widow, the surest way.

The Address.

COme, Widow, it is now time to dry away Tears from your Eyes, and to bethink you of another Husband. It is too much for one single Woman to take all the care of a Family upon her, and therefore I come to offer my service to be a partner with you in this Trouble.

The Answer.

I thank you, Sir, for your kind proffer, but I am not yet resolv'd to alter my Condition. The remem­brance of so dear and kind a Husband cannot so soon dye, nor let me entertain a new a Lover into my heart.

The Reply.

You know, Widow, 'tis a true saying, We must live by the Quick, and not by the Dead. And therefore doe not think the Stock of good Husbands so far spent, but that there is still one left, who can equal, if not exceed him, in every degree.

The Answer.

Such Husbands are thick sown, but come up this. However, Sir, I speak not this of you. For, I con­fess, if I were minded to Marry, I should embrace your love as soon as any one that I know. But being now free, I intend not to put my self under subjection any more.

The Reply.

Be not so much an enemy, Madam, to your own good, as through a foolish nicety, to debar your self the pleasures of a second Marriage-bed.

The Answer.

Good Sir, if you love me, shew it in this, to cease your suit at this time; for, to tell you true, I am not now in the loving vein.

The Reply.

Then farewell, Widow, for this time: yet doe not think I will not come again. Women were made to be wone, and therefore Denial is no disgrace.

An Address of Courtship; or, The Passionate Wooer.

MY Vital breath runs coldly through my veins; I am sick for your love, dearest Lady; neither is there any thing but your own Heart can heal me. Believe me, fairest of Women, there is nothing be­neath the Moon, but your frown, can grive me.

Sir, Methinks this is a strange fit.

Lady, Count not my love light, because 'tis sud­dain. For by Cupia's Shafts, I swear, I never knew what Love was till now.

Sir, I intreat you not to wrong your self, and me. Your Love is violent, and soon will have a period: for that is most perfect love which loves for ever.

Madam, Such love is mine, believe me; for al­though Men use to lye, yet do I speak truth. And therefore, Madam, give me sentence of speedy life or death: Can you affect so mean a person?

Truly, Sir, I should deny my thoughts, to give you an absolute denial, yet must I not turn disloyal to for­mer [Page 180]promises; and therefore let this suffice, I can­not wrong my friend.

Then here my love must end, and in your presence thus for love I dye.

Nay hold, Sir, these are such Soul-killing Passions, I had rather wrong my friend, then that you should wrong your self.

Love me, dear Soul, or else my life is but de­lay'd. my Vow is fix'd in Heaven, and no fear shall move me. For my life is a death that tortures me, unless you love me.

Give me then but a little respit, and I will resolve you.

Alas, Madam, my heart denies it; my blood is vio­lent; now or else never love me. Love me, and both Art and Nature shall strive at large to be pro­fuse in ravishing your sence. I will entice dalliance from thee with smiles, and steal away thy heart with my chaft Kisses.

Well, Sir, I yield, and am all your own.

An Amorous Complaint.

LAdy, Wounded by your beauty, I will acknow­ledge it a mercy if you kill me not. Yet ra­ther murther me then, Vulnerate still your Creature, unless you mean to heal what still you hurt; giving me a remedy from the same Instruments wherewith you pierced me. Your Eye having shot lightning in­to my breast, hath power with a smile to fetch out the consuming fire, and yet leave my heart enflam'd.

Sir, Although, where I am not guilty of an offence, I might justly deny to descend to a satisfaction. Yet rather then I would be accounted a Murtherer, I would study to preserve so sweet a Model as your self. And [Page 181]since you desire that my Eyes, which have enflamed you, should by the vertue of a gracious smile, make you happy in your fire, they shall shine as you would have them; disclaim that beam that displays it self upon another Object.

A thousand Thanks to my dear Saint.

The Tryal.

MAdam, if the Opportunities of serving you, were as ordinary as those of speaking to you, I had render'd you as many Services, as I have spoken words. I dare not confirm them always with the same Testimonies; and since I am so little capable of per­swasion, I fear I shall discover my ignorance, and not my servitude.

Sir, I am of opinion, that the custom of perswasion is only us'd there, where truth is wanting; and there­fore seeing you have always protested the Truth, you ought now to make use of it, else you will make your Oaths, and my Credit, as indifferent as your Word and Assurance would be.

Madam, the Cunning of a discourse shall never do me such an ill office, as to make me believe an un­truth; for I am ignorant of the custom and inven­tion thereof, which shall cause me not to seek out such an enterprize, to the end that being warranted from the disturbance, which I find between the Re­solution and the Event, I should not give you that for an assurance, that the whole World seeing so noble a [...]esign as mine, will judge that I owe an Eternal perse­ [...]rance to it.

Sir, be advis'd to confirm your mind to your words, [...] time will give us always opportunity to distinguish [...]tween those that are feigned, and those that are [Page 182]real. Truly I must make this Promise in answer to your Promises; that if I doe not find them true, you will repent to have so vainly lost them. For I shall always reserve to my self this power, either to reject or accept of what you render me.

Madam, why should your belief take any ill impres­sion of your Servant? I do call Love and your Beauty to witness, that I shall always preserve my self the same.

Well, Sir, I shall content my self at present with your drift, notwithstanding that I shall expect better assurances.

Madam, be confident you shall draw as much fide­lity from your Conquest, as I expect honour and hap­piness from my subjection.

But I desire to know whether your Promises shall be as faithfully kept as your Oaths.

Much more, Madam; for I can give you but wea [...] words, which my ignorance furnishes me withall, where by you work effects worthy a glorious death.

Will you then dye for me too, Sir?

Yes, Madam; for that which would be a death [...] others, would be a life to me, provided it came from your hand.

Live then, Sir, and take heed your Repentance [...] not kill you.

Tis well then, Madam, I shall live your Serva [...] and live long through the worth of my Preserver.

The Demand of Assurance.

FAirest, it is now time that I should require [...] you some Assurances of your friendship, beca [...] I cannot grant you that authority which you [...] [Page 183]over my affections, but by the services which I am willing to render to your power. The proof where­of depends upon Opportunity, and the Opportunity upon your Commands: Swear to me therefore by your fair Eyes, that you love that which they have subdu'd, that I may boast my Ruin to be as well a mark of my Glory, as of your Puissance.

Do you think, Sir, that that which is ruin'd by the Eyes, can be belov'd by the Heart.

Dear Lady, why should not you affect that love which you your self have created? would you cause it to be born, and dye at the same instant? That would be the action of an inconstant soul.

Sir, it is you that run the hazard of being call'd inconstant: For if Love proceed from Merit, you will soon find some one more worthy of your affection than my self.

Madam, I shall never seek the means to find any more signal worth then what you your self possess. It is permitted to those who are less worthy to have such jealousies; but not to you whose beauty has such a super-eminence above all other in the World. No, Madam, take counsel of your own worth, and it will shew the fair Election I have made; how impossible it is to be chang'd; the design coming from the judg­ment of the Soul, which being divine, cannot err. But, Sir, they say that Love is very subject to Know­ledge: of which you being so well provided, 'tis to be fear'd that you may make use of those agreeable diversities, that love do's every day present to un­faithfull Lovers.

Madam, may he banish me from his Empire, if I have any other will then what is agreeable to his. He sees that I am yours, so his Power and my Will [...]re agreed; my Designs concur with his Commands.

Sir, I believe that Love himself knew not how to force you to love.

Madam, he was afraid least he should be made him­self a slave: He has no force able to resist your Puis­snnce, unless it be your own. Therefore since you have this Glory entire to your self, to have vanquish'd all the World, there remains nothing more but that you should vanquish your self.

Sir, I can do any thing else but vanquish, having nei­ther Will nor Thought that doth not render obedience to the Duty, which I have taken to be the perfect guide of my life.

Madam, you oppose your designs to my prayers, to the end this refusal should redouble my Passion, and cause me to persist more eagerly in the pursuit of your tempting Graces. Yet it suffices, that the pain and difficulty of the Request will remain the Glory of my Conquest.

Sir, if your Difficulties are the things that can create your Glories, why do you complain?

Madam, I do not repine at the pain, but at your unkindness that will not acknowledge it. But if you have no such unkindness, I conjure your fair Lips to produce some assurance of your friendship.

Well, Sir, then I promise in reference to your servitude, to acknowledge it for the price of your Constancy; and believe [...], [...]hat as my true Passion doth only oblige me, so there is no adjuration shall have power over me.

Madam, I wish I could transform my whole W [...] into words, to render you sufficient thanks for th [...] favourable promise. But since I am not born capa­ble of such a happiness, I will only say this, That [...] to whom your favours are so liberally extended, sh [...] pass the rest of his days in your service.

An Address of perfect Courtship.

LAdy, who are inspir'd with all the Praises that belong to your Sex, I am come to offer you my services, which you may at present only call Obedi­ent, hoping that your better knowledge of it will style it faithfull.

Sir, I think Fame is more favourable to me then Truth, since all that has been publish'd concerning me proves so false; and therefore you have reason to present me your feigned service, in obedience to my feigned merit.

Madam, you wrong your Beauty, which being so great, can work no other designs in me, but those of only honouring you.

Sir, This confirms my former Opinion; for seeing my self without beauty, of which you cannot be ig­norant, I must necessarily be unprovided of all those services that ddpend thereon.

Madam, I fear I should sin against the Truth, should I put my self to the trouble to make you see them. It is a thing so visible of it self, that by endeavouring to demonstrate it by words, I should presume to assist your judgment.

Sir, I find you are easily able to overcome my Rhe­torick, but not my Belief.

Madam, I am confident to shew this advantage, by shewing the proofs of my Obedience, that Men will condemn your misbelief to authorize my true Say­ings.

Sir, Such kind of words as these are usual in this [...], which promise always a great deal of service, [...]t perform little but outward Complements.

Madam, 'Tis very ordinary to swear the same words, but a thing very extraordinary to make them afterwards appear to be truth. But that which may assure you I do not walk the common path is this, That I know your beauty to be such, as is only to be serv'd by Knowledge, not by Imitation; which makes my design glorious, and my enterprize noble, that waits on such an Object.

Sir, I know not how you can call this an Enter­prize, since your design is more easie then courage­ous; and a noble Enterprize has always difficulties that oppose it.

Madam, My resolution to serve you is so magnani­mous, that there can no ill fortune attend upon it: For if you make the end happy, it will be always as honour to my Courage, to have and to pretend [...] your accomplish'd Graces.

Sir, Since you establish your Content upon unhap­ness, your hopes cannot deceive you much: or if they do deceive you, [...]twill be in making you happy another way.

Madam, I can easily count it an honour to ser [...] you, as being oblig'd by your Merit, and my Obedi­ence.

Sir, I shall never counsel a generous Soul to stop at such a design, since his Resolution is so low, that [...] fallibly both the Design must fall, and Repentance ensue

Madam, That which animates me more to doe [...] service, is this, That I shall receive this honour fro [...] the Enterprize, that there is no small difficulty [...] performing it, with that perfection which it require [...]

Sir, If you give such proofs as you offer of yo [...] services, you shall be acknowledg'd through the [...] Empire of Love.

Madam, Since I have the courage to pretend to the Merit of your fair Graces, I shall take care to keep my self constant; and certainly it behoves me, there being so strict a watch over us.

To make known an Affection for a Mistriss.

MAdam, Among all the days of my life, I must account this the happiest, wherein I had the honour first to know you.

Sir, If I knew any thing in my self worthy your Merits, I should esteem my self oblig'd to employ it to your Honour; but there being in me nothing but imperfection, I do not imagine how the knowledge of me can any way contribute to your content, much less to your well-being.

Madam, I am so sensible of your may perfections, that I find my self oblig'd to honour them to the ut­most of my power, and to offer you my most humble service.

Sir, This is your curtesie and favour that seek to qualifie my defects, only to shew the excellent En­dowments that Nature has bestow'd upon you.

Pardon me, Madam, 'tis the inchanting force of your worth and beauty, which oblige me not only to honour you, but to seek an interest in your Graces.

Sir, All that a Daughter of Honour owes to a Per­son of your Merit, you have already at your devo­tion. I respect your Qualities, admire your Vertues, and wish you a happiness answerable to the nobleness of your designs

Believe it, Madam, that my desires are good, and that my affection, if your wishes flow from a sincere [Page 188]intention to oblige me, is the most happy that ever was in the World.

Pardon me, Sir, I'ave not so piercing an Appre­hension to understand the meaning of your intenti­ons. That which I say, is upon no other account then to render you the honour and respect which is due to you.

It is true, madam, I do you wrong to go about to make you believe, that which I have never made ap­parent by any certain proof. However, that shall not hinder me from telling you, that your perfections have so far encaptivated my affection, that I have resolved neither to love nor to serve any other but your self. I therefore only intreat you, to esteem any affection real, and to perfect your own wishes.

Certainly, Sir, I cannot believe you would set your affection upon a person so inconsiderable. It suffices me to have the honour to know you; and I desire your good fortune may guide you to some person more worthy your esteem.

Madam, My resolution is unfeigned to serve you to the utmost of my power: nor do's your refusal diminish any thing of my affection; take it only for granted, that I desire to be your servant.

Sir, I am not Mistriss of my self, and for that rea­son cannot accept of your offer: but if you shall find that the affection which you say you bear me, is well lik'd of by my Parents, I shall esteem my self very much honou'rd in your love, and shall, as far as Ver­tue will permit, do any thing to assure you of my good will.

Lady, You infinitely oblige me, for which I retur [...] you many Millions of thanks: I shall seek all occasio [...] to obtain the leave of your Parents, in the mea [...] while honour me with your Commands, and suffe [...] me to kiss your hands.

Sir, I am your very humble Servant.

The DEPARTURE.

Philander and Leonora.
Phil.

ADieu, dear Beauty, it behoves me to be banish'd from you, that I may dispose my soul to esteem you the more: one way by the loss of your presence, another way by recollecting the thoughts of past happiness.

Len.

Truly, Sir, you have very great reason to make use of your fancy: For Fancy and Thoughts will forge imaginary Merits, where your Eyes and Judg­ment will find the contrary.

Phil.

You do very well to make use of a new cu­stom; I believe you would perswade your self to speak false, that you might have an advantage over every one that breaths nothing but the truth.

Phil.

Is it possible that such a Vanity should make you offend that which I honour, and you possess? Truly, Madam, you will gain nothing by it but the pleasure of fine words.

Leon.

Call them rather true, and then you will speak Truth your self.

Phil.

You continue, Madam, acquiring new glories to your perswasions, by maintaining Paradoxes against your beauty, which will be always perfect in it self, though not in your opinion.

Leon.

Sir, were I perfect, I should know my self; Perfection being the knowledge of one's self. If then you will allow me that, I may be permitted to style my self very poor in Merits. But you would per­vade the contrary to exercise your parts, knowing [...]at 'tis a greater honour to vanquish the Truth, [...]hen to sustain it.

Phil.

Madam, the design which I have to serve you, may give you testimony sufficient of that power which you have to dispose of me▪ In one moment I saw you possessed of a thousand Wonders, and at the same moment I was sensible of a thousand Torments of Love: and being capable of nothing but admiration, me­thought that this beauty was in the World for no o­ther end, but to deserve, and form to be obedient to. I see no reason fairest, that the belief which I have ta­ken, with the clearest judgment that I have of your beauty, should be swallow'd up with your misbelie­ving opinions.

Leon.

They say that Contradiction animates per­sons the more; and therefore I will be silent to sup­press these unjust praises. Perhaps you will have pity on my feeble resistance, and be weary of conquering so easily.

Phil.

Madam, 'tis rather my self that ought to be silent, being so lately in an Astonishment. But as for you, Madam, it would be a sin against your fair Lips, whose words are Oracles.

Leon.

Then pray Sir, why do not you believe what I say? for all Oracles are truth.

Phil.

But why will you rather, Madam, by perswa­sion hinder the belief, which I have taken with sight and judgment? For I will believe your Beauty against all your unbelief and undervaluings; and also conti­nue the services I have sworn you against any thing that shall hinder it. My attempt also has promis'd my design, that future Ages shall admire your merit, and my subjection, and record us as the most faithfull Lovers in Love's Dominions.

Leon.

I fear, Sir, Time will alter this opinion.

Phil.

Time. Madam, can do nothing against what Love has ordain'd: He is the Master of Fortune, and an Enemy to Change. But wherefore this superfluity [Page 191]of speech? It is better to believe by the force of sight, [...]en by the force of perswasion. And therefore at [...]is time it is more necessary for me to demand Re­ [...]edies for this separation, the apprehension whereof [...]akes me endure this present pain.

Phil.

Sir, do but forget your design, and you will [...]oid the pain that will follow, and also the Repen­ [...]nce.

Phil.

No, Madam, I shall keep the Memory of my [...]sign Eternally, and shall always see painted before [...]e the glory of my Enterprize. Adieu, dear Beauty, [...] shall never cast your Eyes downward, but you [...]all see lying at your feet him that admires you, nor [...]er elevate your Thoughts to your deserts, but you [...]all remember your Conquest. Adieu fairest, for [...] I leave the Sun, and go to seek out Night, and [...]rrow's Cell.

The RETURN.

Orlando and Fidelia.
[...]d.

I Come now, Madam, to receive as much content from your chearfull Countenance, the loss of it has yielded me Sorrow; I know the [...]d will now be as great as the Evil, since they pro­ [...]d both from the same cause.

Fid.

Sir, I do believe you receive the one, as well [...]ou have suffered the other. But I beseech you, [...] tell me whence that pain proceeds, which you say [...] did endure; for as for my self, I believe the plea­ [...] of thinking is greater then that of seeing.

[...]d.

Madam, it is permitted me to think, but [...]erience forbids me to believe that Opinion: For [Page 192]I receive from my thoughts only a good imagination; but the sight cannot err.

Fid.

But however it is said, Sir, that the Presence only contents the Eyes, which are mortal; but Ab­sence exercises the Soul, which is divine; and there­fore if Absence any way afflicted you, you might ea­sily have avoided it.

Orland.

It was some good Genius, Madam, that took me lately from your Eyes, that I might the better va­lue the happiness of their luster, and avoid the extre­mity of that pain, which the loss of them made me endure, causing in me such an impatience to return to you, that every hour I stay'd from you seem'd an Age.

Fid.

That which is foreseen is easily avoided. Now you perceive whence the evil that you speak of pro­ceeds. Nay. the little occasion you had to fear it, makes you find it out willingly. Therefore blame your own desires, which have procur'd you this Evil, and complain not upon Destiny, which is always just.

Orland.

My will is not the cause; for then I should fly my self, and come back to you. But, Love, to abuse me the more, gave me the desire, and hinder'd the effect. Though I believe it to be one of his De­stinies; in regard it behoves a true passion to over­come the Violence of all Opposition by a diligent [...] Constancy.

Full Satisfaction.

Amphialus and Celia.
Amph.

Madam, the day wherein I had the hap­piness to present my soul and affection to you, and when you made an entire Conquest of all that was within me, I had also a thousand Jealousies of Misfortune; for the fairest Conquests are always cross'd, and my small merit did not permit me the honour of your friendship. Since then that you and my good fortune have deceiv'd my apprehension; therefore by how much the more extraordinary the affection is which you have testified to me, so much the more carefully shall I keep the obligation which I have to serve you.

Cel.

Not me, Sir, I never could pretend to your favour: That's a happiness, which, I swear, my desire both rather enjoy, than my hope; and there is a rea­son for it, since you are the possessor of so many rich malities.

Amph.

I see, Madam, I shall possess nothing hereaf­ [...]er, since I must take all from my self to bestow it up­ [...] her, for whose sake I could willingly suffer my self [...] be robb'd of all.

Cel

When I shall enjoy that happiness, the Gift [...]ill be much greater then all I can yet call my own.

Amph.

Teach me, Madam, how I may swear, and [...]ou shall see what use I will make of it; to assure you, [...]at I am wholly yours, and that which Love gives [...]ou now, can never be taken from you but by [...]eath.

Cel.

Sir, be confident that I shall diligently seek all [...]pportunities to deserve you; and receive these words [...] the most infallible that ever faith swore.

Amph.

Madam, I shall live always at your Devo­tion.

Cel.

And I, Sir, living to you, shall live to my self.

Amph.

Then, Lady, let us tye our souls together with this Kiss. And now this Enterprize having gi­ven me so much joy as to think of it, I will go sacri­fice my Silence to your judgment.

The Anatomy of BEAUTY.

HAIR.

HER Hair is like the Beams that adorn Apollo's Head.

Love twists the Hair of her inchanting Locks, to make Strings for Cupi [...]'s Bow.

Locks so aptly trimm'd, that every Hair catches a Soul, insnaring all beholders.

Her Hair so is radient, that Love sits fetter'd in those golden snares.

The Amorous Cordage that binds all Hearts to her in Cupid's Bonds.

FACE.

In her Face all the Graces in her mind, all the Ver­tues are met.

He that views her mild Aspect, were he the most savage of all Creatures, he would derive a new nature from her Beauty.

So full is she of Majesty, that Aurora blushes to see a Countenance brighter than her own.

Beautie's Elysium; Perfection's Magazine, where Roses with unsully'd Lillies mix.

A Face above the flattery of Rhetorick or Glass.

Her Looks have more entertainment than all the vain pomp which the Persians ever taught the World.

FOREHEAD.

The stately Fort from whence the winged Archer discharges his Artillery.

A clear Promontory, where sweet Violets grow.

A stately Prospect, shewing like a fair Castle com­manding some goodly Country.

EYES.

Her Eyes dart lightning through the Air.

The Stars borrow new Luster from her more radi­ [...]nt Eyes.

They are able to grace the Heavens, and beautifie the Sky in the clearest Night.

They are Nature's richest Diamonds set in foils of [...]olish'd Ivory.

SMILES.

Her Smiles are so gracefull, and full of comfort, [...]hat with them she is able to revive a dying Lover.

EARS.

Her Ears are watchfull Sentinels, that let no words [...]f weight pass unregarded.

CHEEKS.

Her Cheeks shew like Lillies spread upon Roses.

Nature painted the Colour thereof in the most glo­ [...]ous Tulips. They are Slips of Paradise, not to be [...]ather'd, but wonder'd at.

NOSE.

Her Nose is strait, and of a stately frame.

The comely Ornament of a most exquisite Face.

LIPS.

Her Lips are like the full-ripe Cherry.

Cupid drinks Nectar from her Rosie Portals.

They are Sister Corals, that kiss each other.

Lands where Rocks of Rubies grow.

Love's Rubie Altars still they show.

TEETH.

Her Teeth are ranks of Orient Pearl.

The double pearlie guard of Speech.

TONGƲE.

Her Tongue is tipt with such a fire, and so power­full, as might tame the most rebellious spirit.

A Tongue able to captivate the Hearers, and re­concile Antipathy it self.

BREATH.

Her Breath is airy Amber.

A Breath that perfumes the Air with Elysian Sweets.

Voice.

Her Voice is so charming, that it has power to doe more than ever Orpheus did.

Should Magitians use it, it would tie up the Nocturnal Ghosts, without the addition of Exor­cisme.

Her Words invade the weakn'd senses, and over­come the heart.

BROW.

Her Brow is Cupid's Bow, most sweetly bent to shoot his Darts against every heart.

CHIN.

Her Chin shews like a piece of pure and polish'd Chrystal, which the God of Love delights to uphold with his soft hand.

NECK.

Her Neck is of such a whiteness, as exceeds unsullied Snow.

A silver Pillar of rare Whiteness.

Far whiter than the Swans that swim upon Mean­der's Chrystal streams.

SHOƲLDERS.

Her Shoulders are the rare composure where Neck and Breast their native closure take.

ARMS.

Her Arms were made to take the great Men of the World her Pris'ners.

HANDS.

Her Hands soft and smooth, of which the Violet veins run along like Mines of Turquoises.

Her slender Hand subdues without a stroak.

The Swans Down is harsh in respect of her soft Hand.

BREASTS.

Her Breasts are two Mountains of pure Snow, from the Fountains of which Cupid sucks Nectar.

Her Breasts are Love's delicious Paradise, the Lilly Mountains, where dwells Eternal Spring.

Her Breasts those Twins of Miracle.

WAST.

Her Waft as strait as Cupi [...]'s Shaft, or Mercury's Wand.

NAVEL.

Her Navel is Love's Hesperides.

The Seal of Love's Impression.

WOMB.

Her Womb is Nature's secret Cabinet, and Gar­den of delight.

Briefly she comprehends whatever can be wish'd for, in the Idea of a Woman.

She is so heavenly a piece, that when Nature had wrought her, she lost her Needle, like one that ne­ver hop'd to work again any so fair and lovely a Creature as my Mistriss.

Closing Addresses of Courtship.

Madam, should I attempt to draw your Picture without the help of the fam'd Apelles, I should be non-pluss'd in the attempt.

Madam, at the same time that I beheld your exqui­site beauty, I became a Proselyte to your high Per­fections, and should think my self happy under the be­nign reflections of your lovely Countenance.

Madam, the least service upon your score I term the highest attainment imaginable: Your Love is an honour, your favour the greatest advancement, and I am transported to be number'd among your lit­tle favourites.

Madam, you are the very Abstract of Beauty; for all those Excellencies that are singly in others, are concenter'd in you.

And with your Beauty, Wit and Art conjoyn,
To make you perfect, and seem all Divine,
That Mankind may pay Homage at your Shrine.

THE New Canting Academy: OR, The Mystery of Wheedling and Canting displayed to the Life.
Illustrated with Poems, Songs, and an Explanation of Canting Words.

The Introduction; or, Wheedling, &c. made manifest.

Since Wheedling and Canting may be justly termed brethren, I do not think it any-ways amiss to joyn them together in his Third Part of my Academy; not for the desire I have that any should learn them, in order to Practice; but rather that knowing them, and to what wickedness they tend, all that love their own Repose may shun and avoid the evil courses they tend to: Nor is Ignorance the least cause so many plunge themselves into Wickedness: for cou'd Sin be truly discovered in its deformity, as it is really sin, it would look so monstrous, that the terror of its visage would affright those that court i [...] [Page 200]from its foul Embraces; nor is it less observable, that those who are least skilled in the Nature of poysons, are most frequently destroyed by Intoxication, espe­cially where it is in their power to meet unwittingly with the mortal bane. The Devil too guilds over his Allurements and Temptations with a seeming good, on purpose that the Ignorant may take them for what they really are not, and so unadvisedly infect their Souls; from which we may conclude, that to know the failures and vices of others as they are really so, and properly delivered in their proper shapes and de­fects, is the proper way to grow in hatred with them, and avoid them: And therefore to leave however. those without excuse that read this part of my Book, I proceed to treat of Wheedlers, Canters, Strolers, and the like, with the practice of their Lives, and manner of living; which Relation, in it self, is very pleasant, and may serve as a caution to the unwary.

Wheedling; what it is, and bow M [...]iged.

THE word Wheedle cannot be found to derive it self from any other, and therefore is looked up­on as wholly invented by the Canters; but accord­ing, as in the sense of it is managed, it signifies a sub­til insinuation into the Humours, inclinations, Na­tures and Capacity of any person the Wheedler intends to circumvent or make his prey; working so effectu­ally, that he possesses them with a belief, that all his actions and services are bent, and tend to their advan­tage, profit and pleasure, and is indeed a kind of flat­tery, which joyns with self-conceit, and the good opi­nion we have of our selves, easily admits of the most favourable interpretation, since every one is naturally [Page 201]inclined to a self-love, and thinks his own Abilities in understanding sufficient, if not the best; it being very. observable, that although Men quarrel and contend about Riches and Preferment, one envying another as to those particulars, none on the contrary contend who has the most wit, or at least grudge not at anothers, but conceit their own stock is sufficient.

In this they hold, that Providence is just,
And is for Wit, though nothing else they'll trust.

The Wheedlers business is much in trimming the Sails of Flattery, and forming his Speeches and Acti­ons to the humour and constitution of the person he undertakes, imitating those of whom Juvinal the Sa­tyrist makes mention, viz. These men, says he, will conform themselves to all sorts of company; if you laugh, they will strive to laugh louder; if you are pensive and sad, or prone to weep, they, like Crocka­diles, will force feigned tears; if you complain of cold, they shiver as in the extremity of a Tertian fit; and if you complain of heat, even in the extre­mity of December, they shall puff and pant as if they were in a manner melted.

Thus they on Flatt'ry build foundations bad,
And only in the empty Air they trade;
Selling of Wind for things to support Life,
And tickle Culleys in their folly rife.

The Qualification of the Wheedler; and by what methods and ways be works by Insinuation up­on the Passions and Minds of Men, and the Rules he observes therein.

HE or she that sets up for a thriving Wheedler, must be no Novice; for if so, there is no apt qualification for this Science, as they term it, but must first be accommodated with a winning behavi­our, a fluent tongue, weighty expressions, that can be so cunningly couched, as to make bad seem good, and good bad, to the eyes and understanding of the ignorant; knowing how to time his Management to keep it always in season; a good stock of Confidence is likewise required, and a countenance not subject to a blush; a Man he must be of infinite Jesting, that when he trips, or begins to be discovered in some pal­pable flattery or dissimulation, he may turn it off, so as either to put a different construction on the mean­ing of his words, or change his true meaning into Jest or Ridicule; he must be furnished moreover with much patience, to bear, without seeming any way of­fended, the impertinence of every Coxcomb or nau­seous Fop; and observe his humours, that he may not be found wanting to tickle the Trout by a seeming applause and complyance.

The next thing he then considers and contemplates is the Passions of the Mind, and to what they stand most inclined and affected; and this he at first ga­thers, especially a hint of'em by the complection, ha­bit and constitution of the Body, the Complection attributing to the sanguine; a merry jocund hu­mour, much given to Love and Recreation: To the [Page 203]Melancholy, a morose temperature of mind, given to ease of body, yet much disturbed at times in mind, and prompted, by envy, to undertake malitious enter­prizes: To the Flegmatick he attributes Inconstancy, Sloth, Intemperance, &c. And to the Cholerick, rash­ness, and a contentious disposition, subject to strife, and desire of revenge; and sutable to these he lays the line and plumet of his Flattery or Insinuation, and humours them to his own advantage in their seve­ral degrees; and, for the most part, they attaque those of the weakest capacities, with whom they are sure they can be credited, as a cunning Jilt of the Town is made to express her self, viz.

You smile to see me, whom the World perchance,
Mistakes to have some Wit so far advance,
The Int'rest of tame fools, that I approve
Their Merit more than Men's of Wit in Love:
But in our Sex too many proofs there are,
Of those undone by Wits, whom Fools repair.
This in my time was so observ'd, a Rule,
Hardly a Wench in Town but had her Fool;
The meanest common Slut, who long was grown
The jest and scorn of every quaint Buffoon;
Had yet left Charms enough to have subdu'd
Some Fop or other, fond to be thought leud.

Nor is this Art of Wheedling altogether unnecessa­ry, seeing it carries with it somewhat more than Wealth, for by a secret and powerfull charm it calms [...]age, disarms the threatning hand of the revengefull, [...]oves compassion in the hard-hearted, and many times [...]eliver a Man out of the snare. This and much more [...] effects by a feigned and flattering submission, and retending an untainted and entire friendship; where­ [...] if there be no down-right Enmity, yet there is no [Page 204]other than the shadow, or outward appearance of a respect for the person, to engage him either to lay aside his present danger, or perswade and oblige him to some kindness extraordinary. But thus much for this part of Whedling, too much practised in this Age.

Cant; what it is, and by whom it is used; with the Ends to which it serves, &c.

Cant is found to be the peculiar Language of no Nation; nor is there any Rule prescribed for the learning or understanding of it, further than from those who use it to colour over their Villanies; and they are such, for the most part, that call themselves Egyptians, but are no other than stroaling Beggars, Vagrants or Wanderers, the foundation of which Gib­rish was layed on one Rugosa a sturdy Wanderer, who first prescribed Rules and Orders for the Wandering Tribe, and became their Head or Superiour, but long enjoyed not his Ragged Dignity, before he fell sick of a filching feavour, for which the Doctor of the Tripple-tree, applied the powerfull Cordial of Hemp to his Jugular Vein, so that the strength of the Application not being allayed in time, cast him into a dead sleep, and for ever after spoiled his drink­ing at the Bouzing-keen.

Those that profess this Cant, as I said, pretending to be Aegyptians, hold the people in hand, especially those that are so foolish to believe them, that they sucked in the knowledge of the Stars with their Mo­ther's Milk, and are conversant with the decrees of Fate, being the only Kindred of the Destinies, from whom they hide nothing; nay, have so large a stock [Page 205]of Impudence to pretend to devine Magick, when in­deed they are no other than a parcel of ignorant, lazy, illiterate persons, who take up this kind of life for the sake of ease; yet so much are they feared, as going in great companies by the Country people, that they are in a manner forced to give them what they in reason demand, least they should fire their Houses, or, as they fondly deem, bewitch their Cattel, when indeed the latter is altogether out [...] their power; and the great­est fear that need any way concern them, is their rob­bing them of their Pigs, Lambs, Poultry, Linnen, &c. for which they have divers Canting Names or Terms; of which I shall speak hereafter.

The Canters have their several Offices or Degrees amongst them, the Officiators of them being obser­ved and regarded by those that subject themselves as their Inferiours, with great exactness and respect, and are distinguished, or go under these denominations, viz. The Ʋpright Man, who being chosen for his strength, archness and policy in bringing them off at a dead lift, is styled their Chief whom all the rest obey, and amongst them his Will is a law, during life, unless he be deposed in a General Assembly, or Meeting, which is held twice a year in great state in places pre-appointed, and most commonly in the Suburbs of London, and that for some extraordina­ry design, as for the subversion of their beggarly Com­mon-wealth, &c. and whilst he stands in siatu quo, all the Morts, Dells and Doxies, or Women of the several Degrees and Orders amongst them are at his com­mand; as likewise the best of whatever they filch or M [...]und, that is, steal or beg.

The Abram-Cove, or Abraham-Man, is one that dres­ses himself ridiculously, and pretends at sundry times to be Mad, and in Fits, when indeed he do's it to draw people about him to procure the advantage of the [Page 206]rest, either in telling Fortunes, or giving them the opportunity of picking the Pockets of the Gazers.

The Jack-man is their Secretary, who having some small abilities in Learning, especially in Writing and Counterfeiting of hands, makes it his business to write their false Passes, false Gertificates and Maunding. Letters, and is in great esteem amongst them.

The Dummerers are such as make a horrible noise, attended with many Antick postures, and frequently signifie, not only by signs, which to every one are not intelligible, but by a forged writing, that their Tongues were cut out in the Turkish Slavery for Re­viling the Prophet Mahomet, or refusing to comply with his damnable doctrine; and to that end, and the better to deceive the easie Spectators, and move them to compassion, they rowl back their Tongues, and show, as it were, only the root; but if you require to search their Mouth, they will pretend not to understand your meaning, and with much clamour refuse it.

The Patrico is he that couples them together; the only ceremony in that kind consists in placing them with joyned hands over the carkass of any dead creature, and bidding them live together till death parts 'em.

The Whipjacks are such as pretend themselves to be Marriners, that have been cast away, and ship­wrecked either on the Coast, or in some Foreign Land; and have nothing to support them in their Travelling to their habitation; and the better to colour it, pre­tend a Pass, though it is altogether forged, and they know no more of the Sea than a tame Goose.

The Fraters are such as forge brief or counterseit Patents, pretending to beg for decayed Hospitals, Losses by Fire, and the like; but have been so often detected and punished, that scarce any thing but the Name remains at this day; for it being a publick [Page 207]fraud, it is more narrowly pry'd into than those that are personal or private.

The Palliards, or Clapperdogeons, are those that have been brought up to beg from their Infancy, and fre­quently counterfeit Lameness, making their Legs, Arms or Hands appear to be sore and very nauseous, with Cream and Blood, Butter and Soap, Oyntments and Corrosives, and sometimes by putting on coun­terfeit lame Legs, and false withered Arms, making of horrible wry faces, and setting off their story of be­ing shot, burnt, scalded, perished with the Evil, and the like, with a lamentable voice, and for the most part they carry Children about with them, which they fre­quently hire of poor Nurses for so much the week, the better to move compassion: but if you strictly enquire into their lameness, you will find it nothing but a coun­terfeit of their own devising; and their Sores so slight, that in a day or two they wou'd cure of themselves, did they not continually apply Corrosives.

The Glimmerers are such as go up and down a Maun­ding under pretence they have been undone by Fire, and for the most part have a forged Certificate with many Names, insinuated to be those of the Minister, Justice and Church-wardens of some remote Parish, pretending great Losses, when indeed their whole life has been given up to the begging trade.

The Mumper is the general Beggar, Male and Fe­male, which lye in cross-ways, or travel too and fro, carrying for the most part Children with them, which generally are By-blows, and delivered to them with a sum of Money, almost as soon as born.

As for the Women that attend these stroaling Gyp­sies and Beggars, those that are Married after their fashion are called Autme-Morts; the Dells are young Wenches, that yet retain their Maiden-heads, which by their custome they must sacrifice to the Ʋpright [Page 208]Man, before they can be free with the Brother­hood:

The Dexies are such as are prostituted to any, and are no other than Common Whores of the kind a­mongst the Brotherhood, and consequently to any person if advantage offers, and for the most part have the Art of Diving into the Pockets of such Cullies as they ensnare.

The Stroaling Morts are such as pretend to be Par­son's Widdows, or to be born Gentlewomen, and by Marrying against the consent of their Parents, by Los­ses and Sickness are utterly ruined and undone; tel­ling a lamentable story to stir up the minds of the hearers to compassionate their sufferings.

The Bawdy-Baskets are such as wander up and down with a Basket under their Arm, and a Child at their Backs, pretending to sell Toys and Trifles, and so beg or steal as they see occasion, or find opportunity.

The Kinchin-Morts are the little Girls that run in the hand of these Gypsies and Beggars, or are carried at their Backs in Blankets.

And these are the chief of the Gang, who from their head rendezvous set out twice a year, rnd scatter all over England, each parcel having their appointed Stages, that they may not interfere or hinder each o­ther; and for that purpose, when they set forward in the Country, they stick up Boughs in the way of di­vers kinds, according as it is agreed amongst them, that one company may know which way another is gone, and so take a different Road.

And so, like a Disease, they swiftly spread,
As Locusts muster'd in black Clouds were lead,
When Egypt felt, the Plagues for Pharaoh's sin,
And Mourn'd the Ruin that it usher'd in.

In what manner a new Commer is received into the Gang of Gypsies and Wandering Beggars, with the Ceremonies that are observed, and other things.

When any idle person enters himself into the set­led Gang of these Varlets, he is not admitted without ceremony. And, first, being introduced by one of the Gang, the Ʋpright Man demands his name, which known, he enjoyns him from that time to re­nounce it, and to take upon him one familiar to the Canting strain, not understood by the vulgar: This done, and Registred, his Charge is given him, That he shall be true in all things to the Fraternity, and obey, to the utmost of his power, the Great Tawny Prince, or, as they style him, the King of the Gypsies or Stroalers, and keep his counsel; That he take his part against all that shall oppose him, or any of the Brotherhood, according to the utmost of his ability, not suffering them to be abused by any strange Palli­ [...]ds, Ruffers, Hookers, Swadlers, Irish Toyls, Dummerers, [...]arkmen, Whip-jacks, Glimmerers, Maunders, or the like, [...] any other Out-lyers; That he reserve to the pub­ [...]ck stock the over-plus of his gettings; That he will [...]ever leave or forsake the company of which he is [...]atered a Member, nor teach any, upon what account [...]ever, the usual Cant proper amongst them, neither [...] favour nor fear; And, lastly, that he will stick [...]se to his Doxey or Rum Mort; and then a young [...]ench is delivered to him as his Mate and Compa­ [...]on. by the Patrico, if there be one grown up; if not, [...] must stay till there is, and be content now and [...]en to be supplied for recreations sake by the Doxies, [...]o are common amongst them.

The Adoption being over, the Scouts are com­manded abroad to see if the coast be clear; and if so, upon the signal the Forragers go out, and fetch in Cackling Cheats, Grunting Cheats, Margery Praters, Red Shanks, &c. That is, Chickens, Pigs, Hens and Ducks, some at the same time breaking the Ruffman's Hedges, that is, for firing; nor do's Tib of the Buttery, that is, the Geese escape them, whilst the Whip-jack, as the most competent Judge, is imployed to fetch Rumbooze or strong Drink from the next Village with ready money out of the Publick stock; and if no blind Ale-house out of the Town or Road be near, where they use for privateness sake, to rendez­vous, then they make the fire under a warm Hedge, or in a Gravel-pit, where the Morts are their Cooks; but so sluttish in their dressing, that a stranger must be wonderfully sharp set that can find in his heart to participate of their banquet: And here the old Pro­verb is truly verified, viz. That the Devit sends Cooks; yet those that are used to it feed like Farmers, and account it more dainty than any other.

The Reasons that induce Stroalers, &c. to take up that kind of life; and by what means they cheat and deceive the Ignorant, under pretence of telling Fortunes.

SOme may enquire why they delight in this kind of life: To which I answer, that Laziness is the great motive that induces them to it; though, on the other hand, their gain is very considerable, though un­lawfully gotten for swarming up and down the Coun­tries, they delude the young Wenches that are Ma [...] [Page 211]for Husbands, by possessing them they are the Children of the Wise men, and have familiar conversation with the Stars, which demonstrate to them future events; nay, many times they have their Scout or Intelligen­cer in the Towns or Villages through which they are to pass, who against their arrival enquire out many things by Wheedle or Insinuation; as what things have been lost; who is sick; who about to be Marri­ed; or who crost in Love, and give notice thereof privately to the Gypsies, who apply themselves to these places with such protestations of discovery, and telling none but the truth, that they get to be belie­ved by repeating what has been told them, with some addition; and that they may seem to conjure, they cross themselves; and turning up the Whites of their Eyes, Mutter in an odd manner their Gibrish: and when they are once found to be in a truth, the Ru­mour of it decoys many to their Lure; and they al­ways having in their gang some one dexterous at diving, or picking of Pockets; they seldom fail to doe it whilst one of the Crew is pooring on the hand of some silly wench or fellow, under a pretence of Fortune-telling; nay their Children of five or six years old upon the signal will doe it, which in their Gibrish is Kinchin-Cloy the Lower: which being insensibly performed, occasioned the foolish report, That if they had one piece of Money given them, they had the Art of commanding the rest; as indeed in one sense they have: Nor are they wanting if the Cove nap 'em; that is, if they are taxed with it, to make horrid Im­precations that they are innocent; yet the Whipping­post has such a powerfull Spell attending it, that it many times obliges them to recant their Cant in ma­king restitution: nay, the Children they carry at their backs are so dexterous, that they shall steal a Hatband, loose Head-cloaths or Handkerchief over her [Page 212]shoulder that carries 'em, whilst she is pretending to tell a Fortune, &c. Nor are those Children, for the most part, any of their own; but when any young Gentlewoman or Servant-Maid has trod awry, and her Reputation and the Father's are to be spared, then by the advice of the Midwife or Nurse, the Child with a sum of Money, as they can agree, is taken by them; so that these Children but rarely know their true Parents.

Having thus far spoken of the Wandering Tribe, who are no other than English Beggars, Thieves and Vagabonds, that discolour their Faces, Necks and Hands with Bacon-grease and Soot in the Winter, and with the green Shells, or Husks of Walnuts in the Summer. I shall now proceed to give you an account of their Cant, and what they mean by it in English.

The Gypsies and Beggars CANT; Comprehending all the Material words used by them, upon sundry occasions; as likewise their Explanation.

Enlglish.Cant.
A Handsome WenchRƲm Mort
An ApronBelly-cheat
A part or shareSnack or Earnest
A Break-houseBetty
A holeFerm
A GentlewomanGentry-Mort
A Receiver of stoln GoodsFencing-Cully
A GroatFlag
A DoreGiger
A PassGybe
A Guiny, or JobHuskin lour
A ChildKinchin
A Little manKinchin-cove
A private houseLibben
An AlehouseBoozing-ken
The GallowsNubbing cheat
CloathsLurries
ThievesPriggs
Meat or ProvisionPeck or Peckidge
LacePeake
A stout RogueRuffer
An ArmSmiter
AndironsGlimfenders
To agree with a manFamgrasp the Cove
AngryGlim flushly
A BarboySqueker
A BeadleFlogging Cove
ButterBeuer
BridewellNaskin
Born a beggarClapperdogeon
A BoghouseCroping ken
A BedLibbedge
BreadPanam
BeggarsMauunders
To begMaund
A BottleBoozing-cheat
Be carefull of what you sayStow the Whidds, and plant 'em
A BridleNabgarder
ShacklesCramprings
A BodyQuarron
CunningQueer
BaconRuff peck
BrokerFencing-Cully
BastardStalewhimper
BelatedHudwink't
Blind menGropers
A BarnSkiper
A BarrTouting ken
Be cauteousStow the Whids
Brokers shopStallen ken
BeatenChaft
A BreastHeaver
A CheatNapper
A CoachRattler
A Chamber-potFacum gag
A ConstableHarmanback
Coach-beggarsRatling Mumpers
A Cloak-bagRoger
A CandlestickGlimstick
FireGlimmer
Cut the Cloak-bagFlick the Roger
CornGrannam
A cluster of GrapesRum-boozing welts
A CrustCrackler
A crafty fellowChincher
A CrutchLifter
A ChurchAutem
To cheatBite
A CowMower
A CoatMish-topper
CounterfeitConfeck
A Coach-manSmacking-Cove
To copulateWap
CheeseCash
A CloakTogeman
The CountryDeuseavise
CarriersDeuseavise Stampers
ChoakedFrummagem'd
ChickensCackling Cheats
A DogBugher
A Drawer of WineRum-hooper
Day, or Day-breakLightmans
DuckQuaking-cheat
DrunkNazzy
A DrunkardNazzy Cove
DrousiePeeping
DrinkBooze
To enter a HouseDup
EyesOgles or Glaziers
Ends of Gold and SilverSpangles
DumbCank
DitchJague
A DroverMow-beater
The DevilRuffin
Dry or ThirstyChapt
A DishSkew
Fellows that Spirit peopleKidnappers
The FaceMuns
A Fool or CoxcombNizie
FearfullPeery
To fly or run awayBrush off
One that may easily be over-reach'dCully
[...]eetStampere
GoldMint
GoalNaskin
GoldsmithRidgcully
GallantRum
Garden or Nose-gaySmelling cheat
To go up StairsTrack up the Dancers
Glass brokenFlicher snapt
A HighwayTopping Cove
A Highway-manRum pad
A Horse-stea [...]erPrancer
A HorseRum padder
A HeadNab
A HatNab-cheat
A half-penyMake
A HouseKen
HandsFambles
HoseDrawers
HostessSupouch
HeartPanter
HostBusler
To IngageBlot the Scrip
King of the Link-boysRum Glimmer
Link-boyMoon-curser or Glym-jack
LegsStampers
LicenseJacrum
Look through the Case­mentTout through the Wicker
LipsGans
LyeCoker
MassSolomon
Malard or DuckRed-shank or Quaking-cheat
A Looking-glassPeeper
LondonRum Ʋille
Milk-porridgePapler
MoneyLower
A Married WomanAutem Mort
A ManCove
A NoseGigg
NewgateWhilt
A NeckNub
Night or EveningDarkman
PottageLap
PorkGrunting cheat
PeaseTrundlers
Partners to FilesShoulder-shams
A piece of old GoldOld Mr. Gory
A Port-MantlePeter
Any PrisonQueer-ken
A PenyWin
A Pot or PipeGagg
A PicklockGilt
The PlagueCannakin
PrettyDimber
The PoxBube
A poor ManAbrabam Cove
A PurseBung
To cut a Purse.Nip the Bung
To speak cunninglyStow the Whids
To give good words.Cut been Whids
A VillainDamber
Rings or Gloves.Famble Cheats
A Rick Fool.Rum Culley
RichingPrigging.
RidersPriggers.
A ShillingBoard or Hog
SheepBlating Cheats.
To steal a Port-mantle.Bite the Roger
A ShirtMish
To speakCut
StockinsDrawers
StocksHarmans
Sucking-picksGrunting Cheat
SilverWitcher
SixpenceHalf a Hog
Silver BowlWitcher Cully,
Straw, Sheets, ShoesStummel slates, Stamps
A ShopSwag
Sought for with a WarrantRomboyl'd
A Sheep stealerNapper of Napes
A SealJark
TeethCrushing Cheats.
To lye downCouch
To go to sleepCouch a Hogshead
To speak illCut Queer robids
To be whip'dCly the Jerk
To Rob a HouseHeave a Booth
TobaccoFogus
To take TobaccoRaise a Cloud
To BeatFib
To spend or lay outFence.
To tumble togetherLib
The Sessions-houseNubbing-ken.
A TurkeyCobble colter
To he transportedMarinated
To run awayPike off
To look outTour
To hangTrine
The TonguePrating Cheat
To wearScour

Thus Reader, having given you a Light into this new created Language which was never known to our Forefathers nor heard of at the Confusion of Babel, I shall proceed to divert you with some pleasant Songs in the same Lingua; yet that I may not leave you in the dark as to the understanding of them I, shall render them likewise into English.

Canting SONGS; the best sort in Cant and English.

The Advice, &c. A Song in Cant.

(1.)
BIng out been Morts, and tour end tour,
Bing out been Morts and tour,
For all your duds are bing'd awast,
The been Cove tips the lour.
(2.)
I met a Dell, I view'd her well,
She was beenship to may watch;
So she and I did stall and cloy,
Whatever we cou'd catch.
(3.)
This Doxy Dell can cut been whids,
And wap well for a win,
And prig and cloy so beenishly,
All the Deuseavile within.
(4.)
The boyl was up, we had good luck,
As well in frost as now;
When they did seek, then we did creep,
And plant in Ruffmans row.
(5.)
To stroling Ken the Mort bings then,
To fetch lour for her cheats;
Duds and Ruffpecks romboil'd by Harmanbecks,
And won by Maunders feats.
(6.)
You Maunders all, stow what you stall,
To Rum-coves that's so quire,
And wapping Dell, that niggles well,
And takes lour for her hire.
(7.)
And Jybe well jerk'd, tick rome confeck,
For back by Glimmar to maund,
To mill each Ken, let Cove bing then,
Though Ruffmans Jauge or Laund.
(8.)
Till Cramprings quire tip Cove his hire,
And Quire Ken do them catch,
A Canniken will quire Cuffin,
So quire to been Coves watch.
(9.)
Benn Darkmans then booz Mort and Ken,
And been Coves bing awast,
On Chats to trine by Rum-Coves dine,
For his long Lib at last.
(10.)
Bing out been Morts and tour,
Bing our of the Rome vile fine,
And tour the Cove that cloy'd your Duds
Upon the Chats to trine.

Now if any person should hear one of these fellows sing this song, with the Gestures they use at the time, he would conclude him no better then a Mad-man, though the En­glish, or meaning of it, will make it out more plain and pleasant.

The same song in English.

(1.)
GO forth brave Girls, look out, look out,
Look out, I say, good-Maids,
For all your Gloaths are stol'n I doubt,
And shar'd amongst the Blades.
(2.)
I met a Lass, I lik'd her well,
With whom I us'd to dally;
What Goods we stole, we strait did sell,
And then abroad did sally.
(3.)
This Bouncing Trull can finely talk,
She will doe for a penny;
Through every Town which she do's walk,
Fails not to steal from any.
(4.)
The house being rais'd, aside we stept,
And through the Mire did wade;
The Hue and Cry to shun we crept,
In Hedges where we lay'd.
(5.)
To the Brokers then my Hedgbird flies,
For Goods she brings good coin;
Which though the Constable after us hies,
Our tricks us away purloin.
(6.)
You Maunding Rogues, beware how you
Do steal, for search is made;
And let each Jade look to it too,
Who will not doe till paid.
(7.)
[...] License got with forged seal,
To beg, as if undone
[...] Fire, to break each House and steal,
O'er hedge and ditch to run.
(8.)
[...]ill Shackles soundly pay us home,
And to the Goal compel us;
[...]ut may some mischief to 'em come,
Who're cruel to good fellows.
(9.)
Sweet Wench, Alehouse and Beer good night,
The Joval Rogue's departed;
To hanging by the Justice spight,
To his long home he's Carted.
(10.)
Away, sweet Ducks, with greedy Eyes,
From London walk up Holborn,
Pursue him stole your Cloaths; he flies
With Hempen wings to Tyburn.

The King of the Gypsies Song, made upon his Beloved Doxy or Mistriss.

(1.)
DOxy oh! Thy Glaziers shine
As Glymmar by the Salomon;
No Gentry Mort hath parts like thine,
No Cove e'er wap'd with such a one.
(2.)
White thy Fambles, red they Gan,
And they Quarrons dainty is;
Couch a Hogshead with me then,
And in the Darkmans clip and kiss.
(3.)
What though I no Togeman wear,
Nor Commission, Mish, or slate;
Store of Strummel we'll have here,
And i'th' Skipper lib in state.
(4.)
Wapping thou I know do's love,
Else the Ruffin cly the Mort;
From thy Stampers then remove
Thy Drawers, and let's prig in sport.
(5.)
When the Lightmans up do's call
Margery Prater from her nest,
And her Cackling cheats withall,
In a Boozing-Ken we'll feast.
(6.)
There if Lour we want I'll mill
A Gage, or nip for thee a bung;
Rumbooz thou shalt booze thy fill,
And crash a Grunting cheat that's young.

The Sense in English thus.

(1.)
MY Boney Lass, by th' Mass I swear,
Thine Eyes do shine then fire more clear;
No silken Girl has Thighs like thine,
No Doe more buxome is than mine.
(2.)
Thy hand is white and red thy lip,
Thy dainty Body I will clip:
Let's down to sleep our selves then lay,
Hug in the dark, and kiss and play.
(3.)
What though I no Cloak do wear,
And neither Shirt nor Sheet do bear,
Yet Straw we'll have enough that's sweet,
And tumble when i'th' Barn we meet.
(4.)
What they Grandame lov'd dost thou,
Or else you are not kind I vow;
Off then with they Stockings and Shoes,
And let us do what others use.
(5.)
When the Morning up shall call
From her Nest, the Hen and all
Her tender Broodlings thou and I
Will take, and to the Ale-House flye.
(6.)
If we can our Reckoning pay,
Something I will steal away:
Drink off they Liquor then thy fill,
Some sucking Pig for thee I'll kill.
(7,)
Therefore to London let us hye,
Thou hast a sweet bewitching Eye;
There we'll rob and kiss Pell-mell,
Escaping Tyburn all is well.

The Rum Mort's Song in Praise of her Maun­der who had forsaken her.

(1.)
NOW my Kinchin-Cove is gone,
By the Rum-pad maundeth none,
In quarrons both for stump and bone
Like my Clapperdogeon.
(2.)
Dimber damber fare thee well,
Palliards all thou dist excell,
And thy Jockum bore the Bell,
Glymmer on it never fell.
(3.)
Thou the Cramprings ne'er didst scowre
Harmans had on thee no powre,
Harmanbecks did never toure
For thee, the Drawers still had loure.
(4.)
Duds and Cheats thou oft haft won
Yet the Cuffin-quire couldst shun
And the Deausavile didst run,
Else the Chates had thee undone.
(5.)
Cank and Dommerar thou couldst play,
Or Rnm-Maunder in one day,
And like an Abram-Cove couldst pray
Yet pass with Gybes well jerk'd away.
(6.)
When the Darkmans have been wet
Thou the Crackmans down didst beat
For Glymmar, whilst a Quaking cheat,
Or Tib o'th' Buttery was our Meat.
(7.)
Red shanks then I could not lack,
Ruff-peck still hung at my back,
Grannam ever fill'd my sack,
With lap and poplars held I tack.
(8.)
To thy Bughar and thy Skew,
Filch and Gybes I bid adieu,
Though thy Togeman was not new,
In it the Rogue to me was true.

The Sense in English thus.

(1.)
NOW my little Rogue is gone,
By the High-way maundeth none,
In body both for strength and bone,
Like my Clapperdogeon.
(2.)
Pretty Rascal fare thee well,
Born beggars all thou dost excell,
Thy Sweep-stakes still shall bear the Bell,
No Fire-ship yet aboard it fell.
Blots my Bully ne'er did wear,
Never thou the Stocks didst sear;
For thee no Constable did care,
For thou hadst Money and to spare.
(4.)
Cloaths by stealth thou oft hast got;
Yet the Justice took thee not,
But through the Country thou didst trot,
The Gallows else had been thy lot.
(5.)
Dumb and Madman thou couldst play,
Or a driv'ling Fool too all the day,
And like a poor Man thou couldst pray,
Yet with false Passes scape away.
(6.)
When the Evening hath been wet,
For Fire the Hedges down didst beat;
Me then with stoln Duck didst treat,
Or else a fat Goose was our Meat.
(7.)
Mallard; then I could not lack,
Bacon hung always at my back,
Nor was Corn wanting in Sack,
With good Milk-pottage I held tack.
(8.)
To thy Dog and Dish adien,
Thy Staff and Pass I ne'er must view,
Though thy Cloak was far from new,
In it my Rogue to me was true.

Besides these stroling Beggars and pretended Ae­gptians, there are others that use the like Cant, who are most of the Town Thieves, or such as harbour a­bout London; and are distinguished by several Cant­ing Names or Titles, viz.

The High-Pad or High-way-man. The Low Pad or Foot Robber. The Budge, who makes it his business to run into Houses and take what comes first to hand The Diver or Pick-pocket. The Bulk, or one that is his assistant in creating Quarrels by Jostling, &c. to ga­ther a Croud that the Diver may have the better Op­portunity to effect his purpose. The Gil: is one that pretending Business in a Tavern or Ale-house, takes a private Room, and with Picklocks opens the Trunks or Chests and taking what he can conveniently, locks them again, pays his Reckoning and departs. The Prigger of Prancers is one that makes it his business to steal Horses. The Ken-Miller is one that Robs Houses in the night-time, by breaking them open or getting in at the Window, and seldom goes alone. The File is the same with the Dvier, though for the most part he goes without the Bulk, and was formerly known by the Title of the Bung-nipper, because with a Horn Thumb and a Sharp Knife he used to cut the Pockets clever off, with all that was in them. The Bubber is one that goes to Ale-houses to drink on purpose to­steal Tankards. The Shop-lifts are commonly Women who go into shops under pretence of Buying, and seeming very difficult to be pleased, find an Oppor­tunity to slip some Garment, piece of Silk or stnff. &c. into their Coat, Bag, or other private convey­ance, with which they are seldome unfurnished, The Angler is one that takes a Quare of Glass out of a Casement, and so opening it, with a long Pole and Hook at the end on't, pulls to him him what he can conveniently reach without entering the House. But enough of these Varlets, that like the Aegyptian Locust pester the Nation, there being no Remedy effectual to put an end to their Rogueries but the Gallows; wherefore not to trouble the Reader with a story of their many Villanies, and by what means they at­chieve [Page 228]them, all of them being witty and ingenious in Mischief, I shall conclude this discourse with a Song very sutable to the purpose.

The Black Profession: A Song.

Good people give ear whilst a Story I tell,
Of 20 black Tradesmen who were brought up in Hell,
On purpose poor People to Rob of their due,
There's none shall be nooz'd if you find but one true.
The first was a Coiner that stampt in a Mould,
The second a Voucher to put off his Cold:
Mark you well, Hark you well,
See where they'r rubb'd
Ʋp to the Nubbing-Cheat, and there they're nubb'd.
The third was a Padder that fell to decay,
And when he was living took to the High-way.
The fourth is a Mill-ken to crack up a door,
He'll venture to Rob both the Rich and the Poor.
The fifth is a Glazier who when he creeps in,
To pinch all the Lurry he thinks it no Sin:
Mark you well, &c.
The fifth is File-cloy that not one Hick spares.
The seventh is a Budge to trip up the Stairs.
The eighth is a Bulk than can Bulk any Hick,
If the Master be napp'd then the Bulk he is sick.
The ninth is a Ginny to lift up a Grate,
If he sees but the Lurry with his hooks he will bate.
Mark you well, &c.
The tenth is a Shop-lift, who carries a Bob,
When she rangeth the City the Shops for to Rob.
The eleventh is a Bubber, much used of late,
he goes to an Alehouse and steals thence the Plate.
The twelfth a Trappann, if a Cully he do's meet,
He nips all his Lour and turns him i'th'street:
Mark you well, &c.
The thirteenth a Fambler false Rings for to sell,
When a Mob he has bit his Cole he will tell.
The fourteenth a Gamester if he sees the Hick sweet,
He presently drops don a Cog in the street.
The fifteenth's a Prancer whose courage is small,
If they catch him Horse-stealing he's noozed for all:
Mark you well, &c.
The Sixteenth a Sheep-napper whose Trade is so deep,
If he's caught in the Corn he's mark'd for a Sheep
The seventeenth a Dunaker that will make Vows,
To goe into the Country to steal all the Cows.
The eighteenth a Kid-napper who Spirits young Men,
Though he tips them the Pikes they nig him again:
Mark you well, &c.
The nineteenth is a Prigger of Cacklers in Storms,
Goes into the Countrey to visit the Farms;
He steals there their Poultrey and thinks it no Sin
When into the Hen-roost i'th' night he gets in.
The twentieth a Thief-taker, so we him call,
If he Naps a poor Tradesman he makes him pay all.
Mark you well, &c.

An Introduction to the modish Method of DANCING, in the Examples of several Set Dances greatly in Request, &c.

Lady in the Dark. A Dance for Four.

[...]

IN this Dance the two Couples must meet and turn off single, then the Men must cross over and the Wo­men must do the same, then back again: And so the Men must meet and fall back, then take Arms by the Right hands and turn by the Left, the Women doing the like: then side with the contraries, and set, after this do as much with your own.

Meet and each take the contrary and fall back with her; then must the first Couple goe under the other Couples Arms, after that they must go under the others. Then each Man must meet with his Woman and fall back with her; after that go under one anothers Arms forward and backward as before, and so take Arms as you sided.

Take Right hands to the contrary and Left to your own, Remain in the contrary place and set your own, do that back again, setting to the contrary.

The Sedany. A pleasant Dance for as many as will in this Order, [...].

IN this Dance the first Man and Woman must sides once, set and turn single, then pass forward each to the next sides again, set and turn single, doing af­terwards as much to the next, and so forwards and backwards till you recover rhe places where you bagan

Arms all as you sided, and so till you recover your own places.

Proceed now to the single Hey, as handing as you pass till you recover your places.

Rose is white and Rose is red. A round Dance for as many as will, [...]

IN this Dance take Hands and meet all a double, back again and set and turn a Single: doe it again and let the first Couple lead forward and then backward to the Man on the Right hand; then all three take Hands and go round. After this, the Women must do as much and so the Men, in order, must proceed to the next Man, and in like manner, till you recover your places, the rest following and doing the same.

Now sides all Set and Turn single, do the like again; after that lead forwards and backwards before, so go the single Hey, all the three strains, do this Change to all, the remaining Parties following and doing the like.

Arms all Set and Turn single, doe it again, then let the first couple lead forwards and back as before; then let the Man pass under your Arms; turn your own and to all; do thus, the rest following.

Lady lye near me. A Dance for as many as Please in Couples, Long-ways. [...]

IN this Dance lead up forward and [...]ackward when the Single [...] Strain is played, and do in the like manner when the double One [...] is played.

Let the first Couple cross over and so fall into the second place, and then cross again and fall into the last place, and let every Couple do in the like manner.

Sides all upon play­ing the first Strain, and do as much upon playing the second.

Arms all a single, Starin played and up­on the Starin, being played twice do the same again.

Then half the single Hey on each side, Set and Turn single, then let all do this and change.

Let the Men take Hands all and go half round, the Women doing the like; then all do the like and change.

All in a Garden green. A Dance Long-ways for six. [...]

IN this Dance lead up a Double for­wards and back­wards, Set and Turn single, then do as much again.

The first Man shake by the hand his own Woman, then the second so the third, by one hand & then by the other Kiss her twice and turn her: upon a single Strain playing, shake her by the hand, then the second and so your own by one hand & then by the other, Kiss her twice and turn her.

Sides all set & turn a Single, do the like again.

Do this as before, the Women likewise doing it.

Arms all set and turn a Single [...] do it again [...]

Do this as before, the Men doing it [...]

Note, That a Single is only two steps closing both fee [...] and a Double is four steps for ward and backward, closing both Feet; and to set and turn is a Single to one hand and as much to the other; and to turn single: and fo [...] these [...] they signifie the strains played once, twice, & [...]

Reader, I Take my leave, and boldly dare
Think you'll not Censure what you well may spare.
FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this EEBO-TCP Phase II text, in whole or in part.